


When We Crossed Paths

by winchester_in_the_tardis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Artist!Dean, Bamf!Cas tbh, Bottom!Cas, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, Heavy Drinking, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Top!Cas, also bamf!dean, bottom!Dean, destiel college au, explicit content, past abusive relationship, top!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2455856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchester_in_the_tardis/pseuds/winchester_in_the_tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Shurley has decided to go to university in Kansas alongside his best friend and his sister. His plans are to complete his studies, argue with professors about important historical events and spend the evenings in his dorm watching reruns of Firefly. Then, one morning, Dean Winchester strolls into class. Cas immediately despises his loud abrasiveness, his unwillingness to achieve anything and, most of all, his tacky taste in music. However, after a chance encounter in the park one wintery night, Cas suddenly finds himself sucked further and further into Dean's world of bar fights, rock concerts, unruly friends, drunken late-night phone calls and partying until the sun comes up.</p><p> It seems that his college experience might not be as uneventful as he first thought.</p><p>*CURRENTLY ON HIATUS*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walked into the room, you know you made my eyes burn...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! This is a destiel college au story I'm writing! I'm planning for it to be pretty long, and I'm really excited for it. Please leave a comment and review - should I continue? Thanks! Enjoy :)

Castiel's bags were heavy. His main duffel weighed down on his shoulder and he mentally wondered if his brothers had filled it with bricks the night before. It wouldn't surprise him - it sounded like something they would do. Heaving an exhausted sigh, he made the journey up the final flight of stairs and fell against the wall. Surveying the hallway, he found that four numbered doors lined the opposite wall and he groaned, realising that he would have to put his bags down again to search for the key he had been given mere minutes earlier. Carefully lowering the bags onto the ground, he fumbled around in his pocket for a second, before triumphantly surfacing his key. A further inspection on the number plastered there told him that he was in dorm 167. Somehow, he managed to keep his key in his right hand while yanking all three of his bags up with the other. Heading over to the correct door, he finally felt relief as he unlocked it.

The room was pleasantly large. A freshly-made bed sat in the right-hand corner beside a large wooden desk, and on the opposite side was a red couch and television, and the two were separated by a plush grey carpet. Against the wall nearest to him stood a large wardrobe, with an open door next to it that led to a bathroom. Castiel had been told that the accommodation was good here, but he hadn't expected it to be THIS good.

He gratefully dropped his bags down and shut the door behind him, walking over to the open window. The view below him was of the campus; he remembered his tour and was able to spot the history, engineering and art buildings. At the far end, just behind the engineering building, was a huge stretch of astro-turf, complete with football posts and goals at either end. 

Absently clicking his tongue, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled his sister's number. By now, he knew it by heart. The dial tone continued and nobody picked up, causing Cas to curse when it went to voicemail.

"Hey, Anna, it's me. I arrived on campus about two hours ago and I've just made it to my dorm room. You said you'd meet me in the main reception, but you weren't there, so I headed on up by myself. I'm in room one hundred and sixty seven, so just come whenever you feel like checking your phone. Or not." He ended the call and sighed again, putting his phone down on the windowsill. His first class, which was History, started at nine o' clock tomorrow and it was already almost ten pm, so he dropped down on the bed and closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep and not bothering to take off his clothes.

Nonetheless, exactly six minutes later, abrupt knocking on his door made him open his eyes and stand up again. He crossed the short expanse of floor and opened the door to find Anna smiling up at him, red hair cascading around her shoulders. She pushed past him and into the room.

"Hello to you too," Castiel grumbled as he shut the door.

"Oh, don't be a grump, little brother," she replied, flopping down on the couch. "Your dorm is bigger than mine. No fair."

"Get a house with a friend, then. You've already been here a year." Castiel perched on the edge of the bed, watching her kick her legs back and forth.

"The only person willing to buy a house near me is some creepy guy named Crowley, and no way am I sharing the same living space as him." She looked up at him then, quirking an eyebrow. "You'll probably meet him soon, actually. He's been cozying up to Balthazar."

"How is Balthazar?" he asked her, interest peaked. She shrugged.

"How should I know? He's your friend."

"We haven't spoken face to face since June," said Castiel mournfully.

"Well, you'll probably be seeing him a lot more now that you're both in the same college."

"Yeah."

She sat forward suddenly, staring into his face and giving him her full, wide-eyed attention.

"Listen, Gabriel called and told me about what happened yesterday-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But-"

"Look, I'm tired, Anna. I have class in the morning. We'll talk more tomorrow, I promise, okay?"

Anna frowned, scratching her cheek, obviously unhappy. Castiel waited with baited breath, but she eventually gave in and stood up, slinging her handbag over her shoulder.

"Okay. You get some sleep. But," she stabbed a finger in his direction, "we are definitely having a long, lengthy catch-up chat to tomorrow. I'll come and find you and we can go out for lunch. I know a place that does wonderful pastries." Castiel nodded and she stepped forward, embracing him in a hug, squeezing him tight. "My dorm number is forty seven, for future reference. You'll call me if you need anything, won't you?"

"Of course I will, but I'm not entirely helpless, you know."

"I know, I know. Sometimes I forget you're not a kid anymore." She pulled back, patting him and trudging to the door.

"You are literally only a year older than me. When I was a kid, so were you," Castiel reminded her, and she opened the door, turning to him and rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll see you later, Cassie."

"Goodnight, Anna."

She pecked him on the cheek and left. He shut the door and ran a hand through his hair. Although he would never admit it to her face, he was glad his sister was there with him. He'd never been very good with the whole social scene, friends ordeal - save for Balthazar, of course - and Anna had always been able to manoeuvre easily through the world of people. Everybody loved her. They all wanted to know her, be her friend and, in many cases, be a lot more than that. Anna was effortlessly cool and graceful, which made Castiel often wonder how they had ended up being related.

He knelt down and rummaged through his bag for his toothbrush and toothpaste. When he had found them, he padded into the bathroom and quickly brushed his teeth while looking at his reflection in the mirror. He look tired. Large purple rings hung underneath his eyes and his forehead was lined with worry. He hadn't been sleeping very much of late. He assumed it'd probably begin to get better, though, now that he was away from...well, everything.

Spitting out his toothpaste, he rinsed it down into the sink and entered the room again, tugging off his clothes and putting on a pair of sweats and an old, faded tee. He closed the blinds at the window, set his alarm, turned off the light and finally crawled into bed, grateful for the warmth and darkness.

 

~_~

 

At precisely nine o' clock the next morning, Castiel had found his way into the History building and was sitting in a lecture hall, rummaging around in his bag for his laptop. About fifty other students sat around him, chatting animatedly to each other. Castiel looked around at them all, a particular group catching his eye. A blonde-haired girl in a black leather jacket sat not too far away from him, sitting on a desk and talking to another girl with dyed-black curly hair and bright red lipstick. A scrawny looking guy sat next to them and was, for some mystical reason, wearing a sock puppet on his hand.

"All right, class, settle down, now," a deep voice emerged from the front of the room. The professor stepped forward, smiling up at them. When the class had gone quiet, he spoke again. "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Professor Walker. You all enrolled for the History course, so I'm assuming you have at least an inkling of interest in the subject." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them heartily. "Now, I believe in delving straight into it instead of faffing about, so I hope everybody's got their ears on. The first topic we'll be looking at is Friedrich Nietzsche. You all probably know him better as the man with the insane moustache. He wrote several critical texts on morality and religion, but perhaps the thing he is most famous for is his controversial ideas about Naziism and German nationalism."

Castiel knew he shouldn't. He really shouldn't make an enemy of a teacher on his first day, but he just couldn't let that go untested.

He put up his hand. Professor Walker glanced at him in surprise.

"A question already? All right, then, er...?"

"Castiel Shurley."

If Professor Walker was taken aback by the odd name, he didn't show it. "Go on, then."

Castiel took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but the idea that Nietzsche was pro-Nazi was disproved years ago. When he died, his sister took care of his unfinished manuscripts. She was married to an antisemite German nationalist, and she changed all his unpublished works to fit that ideal. Nietzsche himself actually believed the complete opposite and frowned upon antisemitism."

Professor Walker narrowed his eyes. "Really, Shurley? I thought I was the one with the History degree here, not you."

"You might want to retake your finals, then. You know, because you've obviously been misinformed." Idiot. He should have just kept his stupid mouth shut.

"Are you insulting my intelligence, Shurley?" Professor Walker was practically steaming out of his ears.

"I don't know, seen as anybody clever enough to use Wikipedia can find out that Nietzsche was against nationalism. He-"

Castiel was interrupted in his tirade by the door slamming open and somebody sauntering in.

His breath hitched slightly. The boy was fairly well-built, with sandy blonde hair and dark, stormy green eyes. He was wearing a long brown leather jacket on top of a plaid shirt, and a strange, almost occult-looking pendant hung from his neck. He had faint stubble and full lips, which were now currently raised into a half-smirk.

"Sorry m'late." A Kansas accent drawled out of his mouth as he glanced lazily at Professor Walker, before planting himself into a seat beside sock puppet guy and the two girls. The blonde one flicked him in the side of his head and he swatted her away, grinning.

Castiel wouldn't have been surprised if Walker was spitting fire by now.

"What's the meaning of this?" the professor growled, fists balled. The green-eyed boy shrugged, long and slow.

"Was partying last night. Forgot I had class this morning."

"What's your name?"

"Dean. Dean Winchester."

"If you're late again, you'll be staying behind to catch up."

"Sounds good to me."

Professor Walker frowned at him, but turned back to Castiel, opening his mouth, but Castiel cut him off.

"As I was saying," he said, shooting a glare at the boy. "Nietzsche wrote many texts passionately describing his hatred for Naziism. That was discovered a long time ago. He wasn't a nationalist."

Walker tried to reply, but was, once again, cut off - this time by Dean Winchester.

"Yeah, but, wasn't Nietzsche, like, some kind of insane son of a bitch?"

Castiel felt his jaw work and impatience swelled up inside him. "Yes, but that doesn't detract from the fact that he wrote many intellectually astounding texts-"

"Doesn't matter either way, though," Dean sat back in hit seat and propped his legs up on the desk. "He went batshit crazy and collapsed trying to hug a horse, or something. He was mental."

"He wasn't trying to 'hug' the horse." Castiel felt his fists clench. "He was trying to save it from being flogged."

Dean Winchester actually laughed. "Just proves my point, right? Isn't anything Nietzsche wrote technically irrelevant now because he was crazy?"

"Many great minds over the centuries had mental breakdowns," Castiel retorted.

"Maybe we shouldn't pay attention to any of them, then. Start from scratch, with the sane people, y'know?"

Castiel was speechless. He couldn't believe anybody could say something so ignorant, especially someone studying History in college. He felt his anger flash, but Professor Walker finally spoke up.

"Okay, enough with the cat fighting, now. We can get back to this debate some other time - it is quite interesting after all. Right now, though, we're going to start with Nietzsche's atheism and his 'God is dead' theory."

He continued the class and Castiel gritted his teeth together. He'd gotten himself worked up, and it was going to take a while before he calmed down again. Against his better judgement, he looked over at Dean.

The green-eyed boy actually had the audacity to wink at him.

Castiel chalked up the sudden churning in his stomach to frustration and anger that somebody could be so dense.

He decided he definitely did not like Dean Winchester.

 

~_~

 

When lunchtime rolled around that day, Anna called him, telling him to meet her outside the large English building. He waited outside for her, flattening himself against the wall as people spilled out. None of them spared him a glance.

He let out a soft breath of relief when Anna emerged out of the doors, spying him and rushing over. She slipped her arm through his and steered him out of the crowd.

"How's the first day going?" she asked him excitedly.

"It's going fine, thank you," he replied, preferring not to mention his train wreck of a History class.

"That's great!" she exclaimed. Then she eyed him, squinting worriedly. "Make any friends?"

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, avoiding her gaze. "Not exactly."

Anna shook her head. "Cassie, you have to at some point. You can't rely on Balthazar and I forever. Speaking of, have you seen Balthazar yet?"

"No, not yet."

"He's in my Creative Writing course at two. I'll send him up to go and see you in your dorm."

"Thanks."

Anna fiddled with her hair for a second, taking it out of the messy bun, then skipped forward, dragging him along with her.

"Now come on, let's get lunch! I'm starved!"

It turned out that the pastry place she had mentioned the night before was a little shop on a corner street called Benny's. They each bought their food; Anna picked a ham and cheese filled pastry, while Castiel decided on a cheese and onion one. They sat outside on the little tables and chairs, watching pigeons peck at bread crumbs on the pavement. They were silent for a while, chewing on their food as a light breeze ruffled their hair, before Anna spoke;

"I, um..." she trailed off hesitantly. "I talked to Dad last night."

Castiel jumped, almost dropping his pastry. "What? Why?"

She sighed, sitting back. A strand of hair fell into her face and she blew it away. "He called me. He wants to talk to you. Explain things."

He sat rigidly in his seat. "I don't care." He was surprised to hear the acid in his voice. Anna closed her eyes.

"He just wants to talk, Cassie. He said Lucifer spoke to him this morning, made him see sense."

"Really?" Castiel put as much doubtful sarcasm in that one word as he could. "You really think he gave in, just like that?"

His sister threw up her hands. "I don't know! I just want you to listen to what he has to say!"

"No." He forced finality into his tone. 

Anna was shaking her head, glowering, when, unexpectedly, AC/DC began blasting in the distance, growing louder as a shining black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the source of the sound, rolled around into the street. Castiel almost had to cover his ears, the music coming from the car was so loud. He was contemplating sticking earplugs in when the music abruptly switched off, and out stepped none other than Dean Winchester, followed by the girl with the curly black hair. He began walking across the road, locking his car over his shoulder with a press of his keys. The girl caught up to him, hanging onto his arm, and his gaze swept across the crowds, stopping when it landed on Castiel and-

What the hell? Dean had changed course and was making a beeline for him, shoving off the girl, causing her to scowl and hurry after him.

Noticing Castiel's shift of attention, Anna turned around, following his line of sight.

"What? What is..." her speech trailed away as Dean reached them, wearing that lopsided smirk.

"Hey," he said. Castiel blinked at him, extremely confused.

"Um...hello."

Dean sniggered.

"I never caught your name in History class earlier," he said. Was everything he said laced with an undercurrent of strange amusement?

"Castiel Shurley."

Dean's brow furrowed, clearly bemused by the name.

"Castiel?" he asked, as if checking he'd heard right.

"Yes," Castiel replied shortly.

"It's the name of the Angel of Thursday," Anna piped up. Castiel glared at her.

The girl beside Dean giggled. "It's kind of a weird name, don't you think?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "This is Meg," he introduced. Meg smiled at Castiel in a way that reminded him of how a snake would leer at a potential food source.

"Don't terrify him, Meg," Dean reprimanded. "He looks kinda like a mouse. Scares easily."

Castiel bristled.

"Did you want something?" he asked. Dean looked surprised.

"Just wanted to congratulate you on, you know, defending a dead loony."

Castiel tried to reply with something biting. But Dean interrupted him.

"Don't go ranting on me again, now." He began to walk backwards. "We're off to go buy some booze. I'll see you around, Cas."

It took Castiel a second to realise that Dean had given him a nickname. He did not like that one bit. Once they were out of sight, he turned back to Anna, who was looking at him with a peculiarly interested expression.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"You said you didn't make any friends."

"I didn't."

Anna raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. "He's pretty smoking, isn't he?"

"I hadn't noticed."

She scoffed. "Come off it. You'd have to be blind not to notice that hot piece of ass." She nudged him under the table with her foot. "Score for you, eh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Anna nodded, but she didn't seem convinced at all. In fact, she looked the opposite.

"We'll see, little brother. We'll see."

They finished their lunch and made their way back to the college campus, stomachs full, the soft September air blowing gently into their faces.


	2. Over your body, hold you like a python...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter! Enjoy.

That night, Castiel sat down on his couch after finally finishing a piece of Religious Studies writing. Anna had showed him earlier how to work his TV, so he picked up the remote beside him and began flicking through the channels. Nothing particularly good or exciting was on, so he settled on a channel that was showing a rerun of the crappy soap opera, 'Dr Sexy MD'. His eyes began to glaze over as Sexy pulled a pretty young intern into the store cupboard and proceeded to make out with her intensely.  
He was about to nod off, when an all-too-familiar voice yelled at him from behind the door.

"Oi, Cassie, you fucking idiot! Didn't think to call me when you arrived? Open the door, kiddo!"

Castiel's eyes flew open and he rushed to the door, a smile emerging on his face in spite of himself. He opened the door to find Balthazar, one eyebrow cocked, leaning against the doorframe. His slick blonde hair was greased back and Castiel couldn't hold back a snicker.

"What on earth is wrong with your hair?" he asked, opening the door further to let Balthazar in. Balthazar entered, immediately making himself at home on the couch.

"I wanted to go for a new look," he said in his British accent. "You know, all 'Rebel Without a Cause' style. What do you think?"

Castiel snorted. "You look like you emptied a bottle of olive oil on your head."

"Honestly, that's kind of what I did." He shot a glance at the TV screen. "'Dr Sexy'? Really? I thought your standards were higher."

"There was nothing else on," Castiel explained, sitting next to him. Balthazar knocked him with his shoulder.

"How'd your first day go, then?"

"It was good. I had a History class this morning, and then a Religious Studies seminar after lunch."

"Meet anybody cool?"

Castiel fiddled with a fraying edge on the fabric. "Not really. Although, there was this kind of douchey guy in my History class and he insulted Nietzsche."

Balthazar's eyes widened and he put a hand on his heart in mock offense. "He insulted Nietzsche? God, what a fucking dickhead."

"Oh, shut up,' Castiel replied, elbowing him. Balthazar elbowed him back, then grew still. Castiel studied him. He was always happier when Balthazar was around. They had been best friends since Balthazar had moved from London when Castiel was a freshman in high school. Although they were a year apart in age, they'd stuck together like glue for years. They'd first met when Balthazar was trying to (unsuccessfully) charm Anna and came round one day after school, instantly taking a shine to Castiel as soon as he saw him sitting at the kitchen table doing homework. He'd chattered into Castiel's ear for an hour straight before declaring that he was officially taking the younger boy under his wing, making it his mission to make him cool.  
He had failed in that department, but they'd been firm friends ever since.

"What's his name?" Balthazar asked suddenly.

"Dean Winchester."

He watched his friend's face open in shock, and then gleeful surprise. He rubbed his hands together, cackling, and Castiel was bewildered.

"What?" he demanded.

"No way. You argued with Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Oh, Jesus. So he arrived about a week ago, right? Immediately established himself in every club and bar within a twenty mile radius. He and his friends basically barrelled into town, and everyone in the partying social scene wants in his pants. Rumour has it, he lets them, too. Practically slept his way through the entirety of Club 200, a few blocks down from here. Caused more uproar than anybody else in the history of our little area. And that was in just a week."

"Oh."

Balthazar nodded gravely. "Yep. Boy's got a lot of demons, that much is clear. He's majoring in History and Art - and quite the artist too, I'm told. He got in here on a scholarship. Apparently, he's not fussy. Fucks anything that will let him. And that is a lot of people. Pretty shady past, as well. His father's in prison, and, boy, have I heard a lot of theories in the past few days. My mate Crowley partied with him a few times, and he reckons Dean's daddy killed someone. Probably not true, but hey, it's fun to speculate, right?"

Castiel felt himself frown. "It's fun to speculate how somebody's father ended up breaking the law so badly that he had to be locked up?"

Balthazar rolled his eyes and lay across the couch, propping his feet in Castiel's lap. "That's not the point. The point is, he's noticed you. All you need to do is befriend him, so that I can meet him. This is my chance, Cassie. My chance to get noticed by someone at the top of the scene and officially integrate myself with the cool kids. You can make friends, can't you? Or is that subject too alien?"

Castiel contemplated punching him. "I'm going to ignore that last jibe. What if I don't want to make friends?"

"Oh, come on, you can't be serious? The least you could do is introduce him to me."

"Not going to happen. Introduce yourself. Why do I have to be a part of this?"

"Because he's already noticed you!" Balthazar explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You have very flawed logic," Castiel sniffed. Balthazar swung his legs down and sat up, moodily staring at the ground.

"Well, it's clear you're not going to cooperate."

"Nope."

"I'll just go then, shall I?" Balthazar asked, eyebrows raised, and stood up to leave. Castiel grabbed onto his sleeve, panicking.

"No! Don't leave!" he exclaimed, distressed. Balthazar grinned at him lopsidedly.

"For someone who claims not to need friends, you sure are very needy."

Nevertheless, Balthazar sat back down and they talked until well into the night. It wasn't till long after his friend had gone that Castiel realised that, while Balthazar had been there, he hadn't thought once about his father. He was grateful for that.

 

~_~

 

Dean Winchester was on time today. Castiel watched him stroll through the door just before Professor Walker did. He was wearing a grey Black Sabbath shirt and dark blue jeans, and the horned amulet was still hanging around his neck. His hair stood up in spikes and, when his gaze slid to meet Castiel's, he smirked. Castiel felt his face grow hot again, and he looked away, down at his laptop. He glanced back up in time to see Dean sit down with Meg and the other two people that he had been with the previous day.

Professor Walker entered the lecture room then, shushing the class with a wave of his hand. He placed his bag down and leaned back against the wall, eyeing them.

"So, class. Yesterday we talked a little about Nietzsche and his ideas about God and atheism. One of his most famous quotes is one about Christianity; 'Christianity is called the religion of pity. Pity stands opposed to the tonic emotions which heighten our vitality - it has a depressing effect. We are deprived of strength when we feel pity. That loss of strength which suffering as such inflicts on life is still further increased and multiplied by pity. Pity makes suffering contagious'. Why do you think he describes pity in this way?"

A quick assessment of the room confirmed that nobody was going to put their hand up, so Castiel huffed out a breath of air and put up his. Walker spotted it and, with a sigh and a twitch of his eyes - as if he wanted to roll them - said;

"Shurley. What do you think, then?"

"I think that what Nietzsche was trying to say is that pity puts us in a vulnerable position. In this world, we cannot afford to feel pity because that makes us show mercy on others. He describes pity as 'depriving us of strength', and he means that pity makes us weak - it makes us think and reconsider. If one is fighting against a rival that has the potential to destroy them, they cannot afford to show them mercy, for fear of being defeated. People have taken pity on one another before, and, in drastic situations, it has ended in carnage and blood."

Professor Walker nodded, about to reply, when Dean stuck his hand in the air. The sinking feeling in Castiel's gut didn't surprise him in the least. Walker shoot Dean a glance.

"Winchester. What are your ideas?"

Dean shifted in his seat, then looked straight at Castiel, his eyes not leaving his face when he started to speak.

"But pity doesn't always make you weak, does it? In lots of cases, taking pity on somebody shows, like, inner strength, right? Like in that one movie about the Nazis and the Holocaust....'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas', that's the one. The little German kid meets that Jewish boy through the fence in the concentration camp and talks to him and stuff. Takes pity on him and his plight. Right?"

"Yes, but in the end, both boys are gassed to death in the showers in the camp. That's not exactly a happy ending," Castiel fired back. Dean sat forward in his seat, staring at Castiel intently.

"That isn't the point, though. The movie shows how the kid, even though he's from a Nazi family, manages to find empathy for the Jews. It's about how, at the end of the day, we're all human. We're all the same."

"Doesn't matter. The pity that the boy feels for the Jews ends up being his downfall - what gets him killed."

"So you'd rather he act like any other Nazi dickhead and want the Jews dead?" Dean asked, eyes narrowed.

"I didn't say that-"

"That's exactly what you said-"

"No, it isn't. If you'd listened-"

"All right, guys, settle down," Walker interjected, wisely putting a halt to the conversation before it could get any more heated. "I think that's enough debate for today."

He went on to talk about Nietzsche's essays questioning morality and existentialism, but Castiel couldn't pay attention. He kept involuntarily looking sideways at Dean, remembering what Balthazar had said the night before about the boy probably having a lot of demons. Why had he been so desperate to defend the idea of pity and mercy? It could be because he was merely interested in the philosophical idea, but Castiel somehow doubted it. Shaking himself, he tried to concentrate on the lecture, wiping all ideas about Dean Winchester and mercy out of his mind.

 

~_~

 

Castiel saw Dean many more times in the next three weeks, mostly because they were in the same History class. Most of the lectures went a little something like this: Walker would ask a question, Castiel would answer it, and then Dean would challenge him on it, sparking some kind of argument between the two of them, and then Walker would break it up. Castiel didn't know why he kept rising to the fight, but, somewhere along the line, Dean had gotten under his skin. Sometimes, he would make a comment that was so ignorant that Castiel felt like slamming his fist on the table. Other times, however, he would say something extremely thoughtful or insightful. Usually when that happened, it was when Dean was arguing the case of an idea with a little too much passion for it to be simply speculation. 

The other times he saw Dean were often when he was put at lunch with Anna or Balthazar, or both. The boy seemed to be everywhere. He would pop up walking down the street, friends in tow, shooting Castiel that trademark half-smirk of his. Whenever this happened, Anna would kick him under the table and waggle her eyebrows suggestively, while Balthazar would simply stare wistfully. Sometimes it made Castiel laugh, how desperate Balthazar seemed to be part of the 'hip party scene', as he called it.

On one occasion, towards the end of September, Balthazar seemed to decide that he'd had enough and barged through Castiel's open door.

"We're going out tonight," he declared, hands on hips. Castiel blinked at him from his laptop at his desk, where he'd been (guiltily) writing fanfiction about the Spock and Kirk ship - or Spirk, as fans enjoyed calling it.

"What? Where?"

"Club 200, duh. Crowley told me that Dean and his crew will be there tonight, and I want to make a good first impression. So you're helping me pick out an outfit."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are. So hurry up, we're going to my dorm."

An hour and four changes of outfits later, Balthazar finally announced that he was ready, sporting a black leather hooded jacket, black skinny jeans, Doc Martens and a white V-neck shirt. Castiel quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What?" Balthazar asked defensively.

"Nothing," Castiel said, holding his hands up. "Just...don't you think it's a little..."

"A little what? Do I need to change again?"

"No, no!" Castiel exclaimed hurriedly, not wanting to have to sit through another half hour of his friend frantically sorting through clothes. "No, you're fine."

Balthazar's eyes looked doubtful. "Really? Maybe I should wear the turtleneck instead-"

"No, honestly, you're FINE. Let's just go and get this over with, okay?" Castiel tried not to sound too resentful.

"All right then, kid." Balthazar assessed him up and down critically. "I mean, what about you?"

Castiel looked down at his own clothes. He was wearing blue jeans and a black cashmere sweater. Confusedly, he lifted his head back up to Balthazar.

"Why, what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"I don't know, kid. Don't you think the hipster look is kind of old now?"

"I'm not going back to change, Zar."

Balthazar sighed. "Whatever you say. I just...don't you even want to make an impression, especially since old Deanio seems to have taken a shine to you?"

"If by 'taken a shine to me', you mean angrily calling me out on anything I ever say in class, then yes, he has taken a fucking ray of sunlight to me."

Balthazar mock-shivered. "Ooh, Cassie, I love it when you swear at me. Makes me all tingly."

"Just be quiet and let's go, okay?"

"You know, you used to be this sweet little kid, back when I first met you. Now it's apparent that you went through a second puberty and now all you ever do is swear and defend dead geniuses and snap at people."

"I'd care to point out that you swear a lot more than I do," Castiel said, not even knowing why he was continuing to take the bait.

"Whatever, let's just go now. Anna's meeting us at the club." Without waiting for him, Balthazar strolled out of his dorm, leaving Castiel to hurry behind him, shutting the door and following him out of the building into the crisp evening air.

They made their way out of campus and down the block to the club. The street was filled with students heading out for the night - it was a Saturday, after all - many of them carrying six packs of beer and several sporting clear bags filled with suspicious-looking substances.

Across the street, a guy with neat, dark brown hair called out to Balthazar, cheering at him. Balthazar cheered back, raising his hands and double-flipping him off. The guy roared and pretended to chuck a can of beer at him. Castiel watched the odd exchange from Balthazar's side, looking backwards and forwards between the two. When the other guy entered a building with a group of his friends, Balthazar turned to Castiel, grinning.

"That was Crowley, the bloody son of a bitch. We bonded last year because we're both from rainy England. In all truthfulness, he's a pretentious twat, but he's fun to party with and he knows people. So that's fun."

Castiel nodded absently, looking ahead. Electro-beat music was blasting from all directions now, coming from the miscellaneous clubs all lines down the street. He felt his heart speed up along with the noise, and his hands grew clammy. He'd never been very good at this. Partying, clubbing, all those bodies packed together, moving and grinding, some practically having sex on the dance floor...it made beads of perspiration break out along his forehead. Frustrated, he swiped the sweat away, almost angry with himself. He hated not being able to be the hardcore, party-till-dawn friend that Balthazar really needed. He could never be that, but it was just one night. One night, and Balthazar would meet people to party with, and he wouldn't need Castiel for that anymore. They would stay friends, as they always had been, but Balthazar wouldn't need to drag Castiel along to places like this.

A flashing red-and-green neon sign emerged into view, and he could make out the words 'Club 200'. The loudest music was blasting from the building, and Castiel fought down the wave of apprehension he felt. He had Balthazar with him. He would be fine.

Balthazar, meanwhile, whooped as soon as he saw the sign. He grabbed onto Castiel's arm and dragged him ahead, practically buzzing.

"I can feel it, Cassie!" he hissed in his ear. "I can practically taste my rising social status."

There was a bouncer outside the club, but he took one look at Balthazar and stepped aside, leering at him. Everybody was attracted to Balthazar, and clearly, this bouncer was no exception. Balthazar smoothly steered Castiel past the bouncer and through the door, and Castiel was close to shocked that he wasn't immediately deafened by the wave of music. They walked up a small set of stairs, and opened another set of doors.

The club was packed. Different coloured lights flashed on the dance floor, illuminating the sweaty heads of the dancers moving against each other. Vibrations shook the ground under Castiel's feet so much that he was unbalanced for a second, falling sideways into Balthazar. His friend righted him again, and then put a hand on the small of his back, guiding him along the left wall. They walked through a small gap in the dancers and came to a cluster of black leather couches and tables. People sat around, some talking, many more of them making out, practically on top of each other.

And, right in the centre of them, was Dean Winchester. On his left sat a dark-haired boy, while on his right sat an unfamiliar girl, blonde curls tumbling down her back. She was wearing bright pink lipstick, and Castiel watched as Dean turned, pupils wide and dilated, and began kissing and sucking on her neck. The boy on his other side was stroking Dean's thigh with his hand, eyeing the exchange greedily. People all around them were watching Dean, eyes wide, completely mesmerised by him. Castiel realised that every single person currently in that club was completely and utterly soaked up in him. He'd been told that fact many times before by Balthazar, but for some reason, he'd never really believed it until now. 

When Dean finally pulled away from the girl - eliciting a noise of disappointment from her - he looked around at the people around him, smiling self-satisfiedly. His smile froze when he noticed Castiel. His expression widened slightly in astonishment at seeing him there, but he quickly covered it up with a grin and a suggestive wink. Castiel found himself chewing on his lip and turned around, not willing to meet the other boy's gaze. He suddenly felt foolish, and he had no idea why.

Luckily, at that moment, Anna found them, throwing her arms around him.

"You finally decided to venture out of your dorm!" she squealed.

"Blame Balthazar," Castiel grumbled into her ear. 

"Blame? You should be thanking me!" Balthazar yelled over the music. "I'm off to mingle! Goodbye, losers!" He was off then, weaving through the sea of people and disappeared from view. Castiel turned back to Anna, who tugged on his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

"Let's dance, Cassie!" she exclaimed joyfully. Castiel went rigid with terror, backing away from her and shaking his head emphatically.

"I'm not dancing! No way!"

Anna jutted out her bottom lip. "But Ca-assie!" she whined. "It's a club! We're supposed to dance."

"No." Castiel took a final step back and Anna crossed her arms on her chest, pouting. Castiel took no notice of her, and instead turned back around.

Dean hadn't taken his gaze off him, and was paying zero attention to the girl now licking his neck, or the boy still stroking the inside of his thigh. His eyes were almost completely dark as a rueful smile twisted his lips. Castiel's heart was beating unsteadily and erratically, pumping against his ribcage. For some reason, the way Dean was looking at him felt more intimate than anything that had previously happened in Castiel's life, and he was trapped - a rabbit in the headlights.

Just as it all started to become too much, somebody tapped Castiel on the shoulder. He jumped violently, and turned to see who it was. He found that it was the blonde-haired girl in the black leather jacket that was friends with Dean, in their History class. She smiled at him. Not in the way Dean had been smiling at him, but rather she, at least, looked friendly.

"Hey!" she shouted in his ear. "I'm Jo. You're Castiel, right?"

Castiel nodded his affirmation.

"I'm in your History class," she continued.

"I know."

"Right. I just wanted to congratulate you, seen as nobody else seems to have bothered to. In all the years I've known him, I've never seen anyone beat Dean in an argument. You've beaten him in, like, four in the last week. He's been kind of obsessing over it lately. He's worried his reputation's being blasted to smithereens. Honestly, it's hard to catch him talking about anything else these days - he's like a teenage girl, it's so ridiculous."

Castiel had no idea what to say to that. The music drowned his thoughts; he couldn't seem to form a sentence in his mind. "Right..."

Jo looked behind her, catching somebody's eye and nodding to them. Turning back to him, she said;

"I've gotta go now, but I'll see you later. You're pretty cool, Cas." 

There it was again. That nickname: Cas. He'd never been called that before.

He watched her go back and sit down on a couch next to some people, chugging back a shot of tequila. Her words spun around in his head, and he shifted his eyes back to Dean.

The other boy's attention had left him, and he was currently whispering something into handsy-guy's ear. Castiel swallowed, and felt the heat compress around him. All the bodies in the club made the place humid and stinking, and he tugged on the neckline of his sweater. He surveyed the crowd of dancers, searching for his sister and found her grinding against some random guy.

He closed his eyes, trying not to puke. That was not something he ever wanted to witness Anna do again. 

Without turning back, he slipped through the bodies and exited the club, heading back to the dorm, hoping to maybe finish the last chapter of his Spirk fanfiction.


	3. Blurring the lines between real and the fake...

Over the course of the next week, Castiel spent his time relentlessly studying. College work was exhaustingly time-consuming, and the rare moments that he didn't have any studying to do, he spent on walks with Anna or hanging around the clubs with Balthazar. The clubs always sent Castiel into a mental frenzy of claustrophobic terror, but he usually forced it down.

Of course, going to the clubs also meant that he saw Dean more often than he would have liked. It was becoming evident that the boy was in some sort of self-destruct mode; drinking, doing shot after shot, moving along the dance floor, kissing and grinding on anybody he could get his hands on. Castiel was starting to wonder whether he was some sort of superhuman, because he never seemed to turn up for class the next day with even a remote hangover. He was always sober enough in the mornings to have his heated arguments with Castiel about history, which were quickly growing customary every class.

Oftentimes, Castiel revelled in the arguments, enjoying beating Dean down with his educated debates, but other times, Dean just irritated him. Which caused him to get snippy.

This was one of those days.

"Yeah, I get that people were turning up for work hungover and shit, but you've gotta admit it was pretty stupid to ban all alcohol. I mean, imagine trying to do that now? The government would have a national riot on their hands," Dean said, chewing on his pen and tilting his chair back on two legs, watching Castiel with slight amusement behind his green eyes.

"That might be true nowadays, but the twenties were different times. A lot more people were religious, and they wholly believed in the demonisation of drink. It wasn't like modern times."

"Oh yeah, not to mention those freaking hypocritical religious nuts. They pressed for Prohibition, but kept communion wine for their churches."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Communion wine contains less than zero point one percentage of alcohol. Plus, it wasn't used for intoxication purposes."

"Like it matters, it was still alcohol."

"The law defined the illegal consumption limit to be anything over half a percent. Communion wine isn't over half a percent."

"Yes, but-"

Castiel was tired of this. "Look, we all know why you're so ready to defend alcoholism, but you might as well give it up now."

Silence fell around the room. Dean's chair landed on all fours with a loud 'plonk', and Castiel was pretty sure he heard somebody whisper to Dean, "damn, Winchester, d'you want some ice for that burn?"

"What did you just say to me?" Dean was gaping at him, shock clear as day on his face.

"You heard me."

"What the hell? You think you have any right to say that-"

"I have the right to say whatever I want. This is a free country, after all."

Dean whistled, long and low, almost laughing with sheer disbelief. "Will you be so 'free' after I punch that pretty face of yours all the way to New Mexico? Might help to remove that stick that's lodged itself up your ass, as well."

"I do not have a stick up my-"

"Sure you do. It's so far up in there I'm surprised you can even walk."

"This is getting a little too personal for a history debate, don't you think?"

"You're the one that made it personal, buddy."

By now, the entire class of students were flicking their eyes back and forth between them, as if watching a ping-pong match. Castiel guessed that several of them were ready to pull out a bag of popcorn.

"I was merely pointing out how childish your side was," Castiel said, a twisted sense of satisfaction settling over him as he watched Dean's eyes practically bulge out of his head.

"This whole fucking argument is childish!"

Part of Castiel wondered why Walker hadn't broken up the fight by now, but he had given up on interjecting their ranting at each other some weeks ago, and was sitting at his desk, marking papers and rubbing his temples, trying to ignore them.

"You're right, so why don't we just get back to our work, then?" Castiel suggested, fed up of the utter ridiculousness of the situation.

"No, man, I wanna know why you said-"

"Just listen to him, Winchester!" Walker finally roared. "Get back to your work and stop sniping at each other. I don't know why you two have such a problem with each other, but how about you keep it outside of the class, okay? Whatever this is-" he gestured between the two of them, "-it does not belong in my lectures. By all means, beat each other up and then have angry sex to your hearts' content, but just...not while we're studying, all right?"

Castiel's jaw dropped to the ground. He had not been expecting that to come out of a college professor's mouth, but, alas, he stood corrected. A few people started sniggering and Walker, realising what he had just said, shut his mouth, going red.  
"Just get back to work, okay?" he said angrily, turning back to his marking. 

Castiel risked a glance at Dean. The pissed-off air he had been radiating a moment ago had dissipated, replaced with an almost sheepish grin. Sock puppet guy - whose name Castiel had discovered was Garth - was chortling and poking Dean in the back with a ruler. Castiel's eyes connected with Jo's and she smiled warmly at him.

It was more than that, though. The smile suggested that she knew something he didn't.

 

~_~

 

Castiel sat on Anna's couch in her dorm as she lay, facing upwards, on her bed, foot in the air, painting her toenails electric blue. Her TV was on, and he was quite bemused to discover that he had become absorbed in that week's episode of 'Doctor Sexy MD'. In the past month, he had had time to catch up to the current season on Netflix. He didn't really know how it had happened. He'd just kept catching it on the television, gotten himself immersed in the story, and then one thing led to another and here he was. Avidly watching it. He was so disappointed in himself.

"Why do you watch that crap show, anyway?" Anna asked him from her spot on the bed. "I thought you hated it."

"So did I," Castiel replied with a chuckle.

"Did you catch Doctor Who on Saturday?"

"Of course I did, Anna. When have I ever missed an episode of Doctor Who?"

Before Anna could reply, Castiel's phone started vibrating in his pocket, 'Sexy Back' by Justin Timberlake playing from it. Sighing, he pulled it out and checked the screen. It was Gabriel, their brother.

"I wish Balthazar would tell me how to change my ringtone after he set it to that stupid song," he mumbled, before pressing the 'Answer' button and holding the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Gabriel," he said.

"Gabe's called you?" Anna asked. "Let me talk to him!"

"Hello there, little bro," came the jovial voice from down the line. "How's my favourite sibling doing these days?"

"Don't let Lucifer hear you say that," Castiel replied, smiling.

"Nah, he won't. He's off with some girlfriend or other. It's hard to keep track, especially when he's dating multiple ones at a time." Castiel could hear the rustles of a candy bar being opened from Gabriel's end. Typical.

"He's cheating again? Didn't he learn his lesson from when Lilith set his car on fire after she found him in bed with the girl from the strip club?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Anyway, how is life in college? Do any drugs? Sex any hot professors?"

"Just because I'm in college doesn't mean my life is suddenly one of your soap operas turned real," Castiel retorted. "Life is fine. I'm with Anna at the moment, and she is currently trying to wildly gesture at me to hand over the phone."

Anna immediately dropped her arms, scowling at him.

"I'll talk to her in a sec," Gabriel answered. "I wanna talk to you first, little brother. We haven't spoken in aaaaages." He exaggerated the last word, turning it into a melodramatic moan.

Castiel felt his anger flare up.

"Yeah, we haven't talked since Dad threw me out of the house back in summer." He tried to keep his voice calm.

"Hey, don't start getting pissy on me. I defended you, remember? We all did."

He felt himself deflate. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just still mad, you know?"

"I get it, don't worry. So, let's move onto a more cheerful topic. How's Balthazar?"

"Balthazar's fine. Although he's getting a little irritating with this whole getting with the 'in' crowd thing."

"He's been doing that for basically as long as we've known him, though."

"I know, but the problem is, he's been trying to get this one guy, Dean Winchester, to notice him, but Dean and I don't exactly get along harmoniously."

He heard Gabriel scoff. "Seriously? 'Harmoniously'? Did Mom swallow a thesaurus when she was pregnant with you?"

"Shut up."

"You love me really. Anyways, spill the details on this Dean guy. I wanna know what exactly you find so insufferable about each other."

Castiel rubbed a hand over his face. "To tell you the truth, I don't exactly know. It started in our first History lecture, when I was talking about Nietzsche and he started arguing with me about how Nietzsche was mental and we shouldn't trust a word he said. Ever since, we've just been fighting every History class. He just says the most nonsensical things and then explains them with strange logic. Lately, our debates have been less about debating and more about insulting each other. And whenever Balthazar takes me partying, he always watches me. It's unnerving."

"Oh, man," Gabriel said. Castiel heard him groan and then chuckle. "Oh boy, you two have the thing."

"The thing?"

"The thing."

"What's the thing?"

"The thing is UST."

"UST? That sounds like some kind of sexually transmitted disease." Castiel couldn't keep the derisiveness out of his tone.

"Hey, don't you get clever on me, smarmy mouth. UST stands for 'Unresolved Sexual Tension'. You and this Dean boy sound like you have it bad."

Castiel snorted. "Sexual tension? I don't think so."

"Oh, yes," Gabriel contradicted in a grave tone. "The UST is a powerful force. If it continues to go unaddressed, it will become so incredibly unbearable that not even jerking off will do the trick. You'll continue to fight until you're shouting right up against each other, noses touching, and then it'll just explode. You'll have such angry, hateful sex, fucking each other into the mattress or wall or whatever, that neither off you will be able to walk for weeks because your asses are so red and raw."

"Ew. Don't be crass, Gabriel."

"It's true!" Gabriel said, words muffled as if he'd just taken a huge bite of candy bar. Castiel heard him swallow, smacking his lips together. "I'm not even joking, man."

"Whatever."

"Just tell me one thing. This Dean person. Is he hot?"

"I don't-"

"Answer the question!"

Castiel chewed his lip, frustrated. He was beginning to regret answering the phone. "I suppose he is reasonably physically attractive, yes."

'Now, now, Castiel. Answer truthfully." Castiel could envision his brother waggling his finger in his face.

"Okay, fine. He is incredibly attractive. He has dirty-blonde hair and full lips and long eyelashes and tanned skin and he parties all day and night and everybody wants to fucking fuck him. Happy?"

Silence on the other end.

"Gabriel? You still there?" Castiel asked, worried that he'd caused his brother to hang up on him.

"Yeah, I'm still here, bro. Woah, that was a lot of pent-up anger just then. Clear symptom of the UST."

"Stop talking about UST. There is no UST."

"Keep telling yourself that, Casanova. Don't mean it's gonna get any truer."

Castiel let his head fall back against the couch. He was exhausted. "Casanova? Really? Anyway. Enough about me. How've you been doing?"

"Me? Oh I'm great. The joke shop's up and in full swing. I tell you, watching those little kids' faces light up every time someone sits on a whoopee cushion is the highlight of my life."

Castiel smiled. "Sounds like you're beginning to discover your love for children. Maybe you could go into teaching."

"Nope, that means I'd have to go back to university. No way. Plus, as much as I love the little monsters, I would never be able to teach a whole class full of them."

"Fair enough."

Gabriel cleared his throat. "Uh... You know, Dad's been asking after you."

"I know. He spoke to Anna, tried to get her to tell me to call him." He heard the resentment creep into his voice.

"He feels terrible, you know," Gabriel said carefully.

Castiel threw up his hands, even though Gabriel couldn't see him. "I'm done with him, okay? All he ever does is sit at his computer and write his fucking books, never having any time for his fucking children. And then he goes and says those things to me, right before I leave to go off to university. I'm just fucking done."

"You know it was Hester though. You know she got into his head-"

"I don't care whether Hester made him say it or not. He still said it."

Gabriel's end was quiet for a long time. Then he said;

"He's written you into his books. Not you specifically, but Castiel the Angel. But if you look at his personality, he's basically you without all the snippiness and anger."

"Of course he edited out what he perceives to be my worst qualities. Of course he did. Thats just like him. It's just another reminder of how much of a fucking disappointment I am to him."

"Please make it up with him, Cassie," Gabriel begged. "I hate it when the family argues."

"Look, it's between me and Dad, okay?"

"Are you sure about that? Because Lucifer has refused to be in the same room as him for weeks. He's doing it out of a sense of loyalty to you, but I can tell its wearing Dad down. He's not coping well, what with his neuroticism. The whole thing is putting Samandriel right on edge. He's getting into fights at school."

"Samandriel is eight, Gabriel. I doubt he even understands what's going on."

"You forget that he was there on the night that it happened. He saw it all go down, same as the rest of us. I know because I was the one who had to calm him and get him to sleep afterwards. He misses you, you know."

Castiel closed his eyes, feeling defeated. "Tell him I said hi, then."

"Right...do you want me to give Dad a message from you?"

"Yeah. Tell him Castiel says 'you're a fucking pathetic dickhead and I hope you die alone surrounded by your crappy books and alcohol'".

"Castiel!" Anna reprimanded sharply from the bed. Gabriel just sighed down the phone.

"Okay, then. I'll tell him you didn't have anything to say. Can I talk to Anna now?"

"Yeah. Sure." With that, he handed Anna the cell and she took it from him, immediately chattering to Gabriel. Castiel shut them out, instead focussing on 'Dr Sexy', which was just finishing. He'd missed the rest of the episode. He yawned, stretching his arms high above his head, checking the clock. It was past midnight. He stood up, grabbing his trench coat and putting it on, signalling to Anna that he was leaving. She said goodbye to Gabriel, and then ended the call and handed him his phone back.

"I'll see you soon, okay, Cassie?" she said, standing up to pull him into an embrace. He stiffly put his arms around her. He'd never been very good at hugs.

"Bye, Anna."

"Get a good night's sleep tonight. And try not to let the resentment eat you up? I worry about you."

"I appreciate that, but it's really not necessary. I'm absolutely fine."

"Hm..." she squinted at him sceptically. "Not sure I believe you. But you'd better get back to your dorm. Night."

"Night," he replied, and stepped out of the door, closing it behind him. As he headed back to his own dorm, he thought about his father. He remembered the last time they'd talked face to face, how Castiel had stormed out of the house, leaving his dad standing at the table, shell-shocked and obviously realising that he'd just possibly lost his son. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts away and crossed the campus grounds to his own building.

 

~_~

 

It happened on a cold night, four days later. It was coming towards mid-October, and Castiel hugged his trench coat around his shoulders, heading down the path that led to the park by the college. He hadn't been able to sleep, so he'd eventually given up and decided to go out for a walk. Stars were beginning to twinkle in the blanket of darkness that was the sky, and he looked up at them, trying to make out the constellations. He passed the gates to the park and headed down a slightly obscured, overgrown pathway. There was nobody else in sight, which he was thankful for. He really just wanted to be alone.

After several minutes of walking, the pathway opened up into a little square at the centre of the park. Right in the middle was a memorial of a soldier who had fought heroically in the Second World War, who had been from this area. He wandered over to it and tried to read the placard, but it was too dark to see. He looked up at the statue, noting the man's grim, determined expression. He wasn't standing with a particularly courageous posture, but was rather hunched over, gripping his gun holster and adjusting his helmet, weary but ready to go. It was such a sincere, honest rendition of a soldier. Castiel found the moment marked by a sense of tranquility and peacefulness-

And that was when he heard the retching.

It was coming from behind the rose bush to his left. Somebody was coughing, and then he heard a short gagging sound, followed by the unmistakable noise of puke landing on the floor. Hurriedly, he rushed over to the source of the sound, walking around the rose bush, about to ask if the person was okay.

Until he saw who it was.

Of course it had to be him. That was just Castiel's luck. He lifted a hand to cover his nose when the stench of the puke hit him, as Dean Winchester straightened up, wiping his mouth and staggering backwards. He was breathing heavily, laughing quietly as he fell sideways. Automatically, Castiel grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back before he went tumbling into the thorns. Dean turned, blinking at him, eyes unfocused. He didn't seem to remember who he was at first, but then the recognition cleared his face and he grinned widely.

"Hey, Cas!" he slurred. "What're you doin' 'ere? Woulda thought you'd be asleep." He lunged unexpectedly forward, almost sending them both falling to the ground. Castiel pushed him back at the last second, steadying him and letting go.

"Why are you out here, Dean?" he asked. "Where are your friends?"

"Friends..." Dean mumbled under his breath. "Back a' the club, ain't they? Don't need 'em, anyways. 'M just fine."

Castiel turned away as Dean blew a hot gust of air into his face, filling his nostrils with the pungent smell of puke and waste and tequila.

"God, you are so fucking drunk," he muttered, unsure of what to do. Despite their differences, he couldn't just leave Dean here. As Dean wandered off a few feet away, humming and almost slipping in the throw-up, Castiel heaved a great sigh. He grabbed Dean's shoulder and steered him back around, bringing him out into the square. Dean's grin stretched even wider - if that was possible - and he almost tripped over his own feet. Castiel kept a firm hand on his shoulder as he began to guide him down the path, but all of a sudden, Dean yanked him backwards, plonking them both on a bench. He chuckled quietly and leaned back, staring at the sky.

"'M so fuckin' drunk, ain't I?"

"You could say that."

"Feels so stupid sometimes, Cas," he said idly, twisting his fingers in the hem of his jacket. Castiel watched him silently. "Whorin' an' sexin' an' shit. Helps you forget, though, dun't it? Helps make it go 'way, for a li'l bit. I know what they say 'bout me, Cas. That I'm a slut an' stuff. They're right. But they don' understand. All the stuff in here-" he pounded his chest once, "-it lifts for a while, ya know? The way they all look a' me in 'ose places...makes me feel loved. Makes me feel...oh, shit." He leaned over the bench and heaved one huge retch, the contents of his stomach lurching up and once again spilling onto the ground. Castiel yanked his legs up so that none of him would get on him. When Dean was done, he stood up shakily, and began trying to walk back to the dorm.

"Dean, wait!" Castiel called, jumping up and running after him, catching his arm when he stumbled. "You'll never get back to your dorm alone."

"I'll be fine, Cas. 'Preciate that, though. 'Preciate you carin'. Not many people do. 'Ey kiss me an' suck me an' sex me an' then 'ey leave. Not many people stay."

Castiel felt his heart lurch, as if he was intruding on something. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Dean would most definitely not be saying any of his stuff, had he been sober. As it was, he was wasted out of his mind and spouting stuff that Castiel had a feeling he had never admitted to anybody.

Realising that they would never get back at this rate, Castiel put Dean's arm around his own shoulders and heaved him forward, causing Dean to giggle.

"Haha, I'm suck a fuckin' twat, ain't I? Ha, ha, ha."

"You're not a twat, Dean." Castiel reassured him. "Although sometimes you have me fooled," he muttered to himself.

"Haha, that's funny, Cas, haha. Bu' I am a twat, though. S'okay, though. Lotsa people are twats. 'M just an extra extra twat."

Castiel finally managed to get Dean into the building.

"What number is your dorm?" he asked him. Dean made no indication that he'd heard him. "Dean!"

Dean turned to him, eyes wide. "Wha'?"

"What's your dorm number?"

Dean's eyes grew out of focus again. "Uh...'hundred an' five. Yeah. Or 'hundred an' six. Not sure."

Castiel breathed through his nose, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Which one is it?"

Dean scratched his head. "Um...'hundred an' five. Yeah, 'hundred an' five."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He pushed Dean into the elevator, and while they were waiting to arrive on the right floor, Dean eyed his reflection in the mirror.

"So fuckin' wasted," he murmured.

"Yes, I can see that."

"Why're you helpin' me?" Dean asked unexpectedly.

Castiel stared at him incredulously. "You expect me to just leave someone absolutely shitfaced in a park to drown in their own vomit and piss?"

Dean shrugged. "Most people would."

"That's not true."

"'Tis,' Dean insisted, nodding confidently. His hair was sticky and plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were bloodshot, the veins in them deep red.

Then, the elevator doors opened with a resonating pinging noise. Castiel steered Dean out and into the hallway, quickly finding his dorm number. It took about fifteen more minutes, but he was finally able to find Dean's keys and unlock his door, pushing Dean inside. He sat Dean on the edge of his bed, heading into the bathroom and dampening a washcloth. He returned and sat next to Dean, wiping at his face. Dean sat there, obediently letting him. When he was done cleaning his face and hair, Castiel tugged off his leather jacket and boots, hanging the jacket up and placing the boots in the corner by the door. Dean clumsily swiped a hand down his face and then leaned forward on his stomach, closing his eyes. Castiel exhaled heavily and covered him with the blanket, then placed a bowl by the bed in case Dean threw up again in the night. He placed Dean's keys on his desk, took one last look at him, turned the light off and left.

This was one of the most bizarre nights of his life.

 

~_~

 

The next day found Castiel sitting under the shade of a large pine tree, reading an old used paperback. The sun was high in the sky now, and it was warmer than usual for October. He distractedly scraped his foot across the ground, feeling leaves and twigs crunch and crack beneath him as he turned the page. The sound of voices approaching caused him to look up.

"Look, I really don't think-"

"You are not getting out of this. All you have to do is thank him. It's not hard."

"But, I mean-"

"He took you home, washed your face, cleaned you up and put you to bed. That warrants a thank you."

Dean and Jo were walking up to him, heads bent in argument. Dean was the first to look up and meet his gaze, trepidation clear on his face. When the two reached him, Dean awkwardly cleared his throat, shooting Jo a furious glance.

"Jo wanted to let you know-" He was interrupted by her swatting him in the back of the head. 

"Try again, bucko," she hissed.

"I wanted you to know-"

"That's better."

"I wanted you to know that it was cool. What you did for me last night when I got shitfaced."

Castiel fiddled with the end of his page. "I didn't think you'd remember."

"Well, I remember. Most of it, anyway. Enough to know what you did. So thanks."

Castiel nodded, swallowing. Dean's eyes were boring into his and he started to squirm. "You're welcome. I mean, it's nothing."

"Okay. We'll see you in History class, then."

"Yes."

"Good. That's good. Let's go, c'mon, Jo."

With a last backwards glance, the two of them headed away, leaving Castiel to scratch the side of his head and wonder why his stomach was doing strange somersaults.

 

~_~

 

"I'm sorry, Cassie. I know I dragged you out here, but it would be a huge favour if you let me go." Balthazar was pleading Castiel with desperate eyes, hands clasped together and held out to him. It was almost comical.

It had been two nights since the incident in the park, and Balthazar had strode into Castiel's dorm, announcing that they were going out to some club in a warehouse three blocks away. However, as soon as they'd arrived, a girl from Balthazar's Creative Writing class had approached him, inviting him back to her dorm. 

Castiel glared at him with as much force as he could muster.

"Please?" Balthazar tried one last time. Castiel's shoulders slumped.

"Just go, Zar. It's fine."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Just go and get laid. I don't care."

Balthazar smiled hugely at him, giving him a double-thumbs up.

"Thanks, Castiel. You're the utter coolest."

"So I've been told," Castiel grumbled, but let Balthazar go as he hurried down the street after the girl. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned to face the road. For a while, he didn't move, just listened to the beat of the music pulsating from several different buildings. He scuffed his feet against the concrete of the pavement, sighing dejectedly. For some reason, he didn't want to go back to his dorm.

"Somebody looks lonely." An unfamiliar feminine voice called from behind him. A girl about his age or maybe a couple of years older came to stand beside him, looking him up and down.

"You get stood up or something? Nobody can look that miserable without a reason," she commented. He shrugged vaguely.

"Just...waiting for someone."

"You sure?" she asked doubtfully. "Because you've been standing out here alone for ages now."

"You were watching me?" he asked, although not actually very interested in the conversation at all.

"Well...yeah," she admitted, embarrassed. "The truth is, you're kinda cute. Well, hella cute, if I'm honest. Can't be accused for admiring, can I?"

"Suppose not."

He saw her frown out of the corner of his eye.

"Anyway... I was wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink or something?"

"Um... When?"

"Like, right now." She shook her hair out and bit her lip, smiling. Castiel didn't even look up.

"Right. Er... Sorry. I can't."

He suppressed a smile as her expression grew thunderous. "I beg your pardon?"

"I told you I was waiting for someone."

"And I thought we'd established that you were lying?"

Castiel shrugged. He really was not in the mood. She stamped her foot, letting out a sound akin to a cat hissing.

"What? You gay or something?"

He shrugged again. She stepped away, disgusted.

"You know what? Fuck off. Whatever, I don't care." She turned and stalked down the street, high heels making her wobble over several times. He watched her go, knowing he shouldn't laugh, but unable to help himself.

"Did I just see you purposely strike out?"

Castiel froze. Very slowly, he turned and made out the figure of Dean Winchester leaning against the building behind him. One foot was propped against the wall, and he was taking a drag on a cigarette.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked him. Dean smirked.

"Long enough to see you totally blow that chick off. Came out to have a smoke - don't do it often, so don't get all judgemental - and saw you standing there, staring into the road like you expected it to swallow you up or something. I gotta admit, that cold shoulder you gave her was pretty icy."

Castiel shrugged, for the third time. "Wasn't in the mood."

"Rough night?"

"Just tired."

Dean chuckled. "Well, we'll soon fix that, won't we?" He stepped forward, flicking his cigarette on the ground and stamping it out. His eyes held a mischievous glint. He gestured to the warehouse behind with a jerk of his head. "Come inside. It's pretty fun in there."

"I just told you I was tired."

"And I told you we'd fix that. So come on. Or are you gonna stay out here all night until you freeze to death?" Without waiting up, he spun around and headed towards the door, hands in his jacket pocket, sauntering into the building. Castiel considered just leaving, making a getaway, but his head told him to get real. Like that was going to happen. He stepped away from the kerb and hurried after Dean, into the beating music and flashing disco lights.


	4. The sun, it rises slowly as you walk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to get more of a feel of Dean's character in this story, try listening to Gods & Monsters by Lana Del Rey. It really describes and fleshes him out well. I'm still searching for a song to fit Cas' character. If any of you have any ideas, feel free to give me a suggestion in the comments!

As always was the case, the club was packed. On the other side of the busy dance floor was a bar, and as Castiel stepped up behind Dean, he noticed Jo, Meg and Garth sat up there, along with an unfamiliar redheaded girl who was sporting large round glasses and a Ravenclaw scarf. 

Dean turned to him, brows quirked in question.

"You drink?" he asked, low in his ear.

"Of course I do." It wasn't technically a lie. Castiel had drunk alcohol before - and he'd been doing it more since he'd arrived at college - but he never really tried to make a habit of it. Not that he was about to tell Dean that.

Dean placed a hand on the small of his back and guided him between the dancers, heading for the bar. Castiel tried not to shiver, and he certainly tried not to think about the fact that Dean's hand was on his back. As they approached, Jo looked up, mouth lifting in surprise when she saw Castiel. She slid off her stool and gave him a one-armed hug, as the slight warmth left Castiel's back, telling him that Dean had removed his hand.

"Hey, Cas! I wasn't expecting to see you here!" she exclaimed joyfully. He smiled at her and she patted him on the cheek, slightly clumsily. It was clear that she was a little tipsy. Meg leaned forward at that second, leering at him in that special way of hers that made him feel unusually naked. He shifted, waiting for her to look away.

"Well, hello there, Cas," she said, voice low and husky. He gulped and nodded at her. Mercifully, Garth stood up, obscuring his view of her. He clapped him on the shoulder, grinning cheekily.

"Hey, man! Did Dean scare you into coming or some shit? You look a bit terrorised. Don't worry, he does that to everybody that he likes." Garth moved away to wave at the bar man for another shot. Castiel turned back around to find the redhead with the large glasses standing in front of him, smiling and jittering slightly.

"Hey!" she said enthusiastically.

"Um...hi."

"You're Cas, yeah?"

"Actually, it's Castiel-"

"Omigosh, I've heard loads about you! I swear, Dean won't freaking shut up. It's all 'Cas this' and 'Cas that' and 'Cas is a dickhead' and..." she carried on babbling, and Cas' eyes slid up to awkwardly meet Dean's gaze. Dean looked as though he was one step away from face-palming out of humiliation and Castiel glanced away.

"...so that's all fine and dandy, and I guess it's pretty cute, but it can get so boring at times. I'm Charlie, by the way."

"Right... Hello?"

"Hi!'

Dean tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, Charlie, how about taking a breather for a second, yeah? Don't wanna pass out from lack of air."

Charlie huffed at him. "Can't you see we're having a conversation?"

"You call that a conversation? 'Cause it was more like you talking at him while he pretended to listen."

Charlie scowled. "God, Dean, you are such a jerk when you haven't been drinking."

"I'm a jerk all the time."

"Yeah, whatever. Do us all a favour and get some alcohol in you. I'll see ya around, Cas, okay?"

"Okay," Castiel said, before she walked off. Dean asked the bar man for two shots of tequila, and when he had received them, held one out to Castiel in a silent offer. Castiel looked at the glass, and at the beverage inside it. He looked back up at Dean, who was still watching him expectantly, hand out, holding the glass to him. He could almost hear his father's voice inside his head, stuttering pathetically over his words, trying to convince him to reject Dean's offer, make the 'right' decision.

Castiel took the shot out of Dean's hand and knocked it back, placing it back down on the table. 

His head momentarily pounded as the world spun and then righted itself. Dean was staring at him, slightly taken aback, but he quickly recovered and grinned, ordering another two shots. Castiel smiled. He had a good feeling about this.

The rest of the night passed in quite a blur. Most of it consisted of doing shots at the bar with Dean and his friends, but at one point he was vaguely aware of Meg hauling him onto the dance floor. Any other time, he would have just stood there, unbearably awkward, but in his current elated mental state, he simply closed his eyes and moved against her. He was beginning to understand why people enjoyed doing this. Getting lost in the overwhelming heat and music, soaked in the person opposite you... It was as if he was on the highest high imaginable. They danced and moved, bumping into others, feeling the music almost literally pass through them. At one instance, Meg pressed her whole body against him, lips on his neck. His eyes fluttered open. Her entire body was in contact with every part of his, and his eyes couldn't stay still. Eventually, he found Dean, leaning against the bar. Three people surrounded him, hanging onto his arms and murmuring into his ears, but his sight had zeroed in on Castiel. His head was slightly tilted, lips pressed together contemplatively, a slight crease between his brows. He seemed on the verge of doing something, but before he did, Castiel closed his eyes again and moved away, thoughts melding into one another. 

Meg continued to move up and down him, but he hardly noticed her. The only thing he registered was the electric music and the sweat trickling down the back of his neck and down the back of his t-shirt. His hair was plastered in clumps with the perspiration. Something was rushing in his ears as he stumbled away from her and moved towards the bar in a dreamlike state. He fell against it, smiling airily and saw Dean a few feet away. His lips were caught in a heavy kiss with a girl, pressing her up against the bar. Abruptly, he pulled away from her and, wiping his mouth, headed onto the dance floor and grabbed the arm of a random guy, doing the same thing, sticking his tongue down the boy's throat.

Castiel turned away and joined Jo, Garth and Charlie at the other end of the club. He fell into the wall, laughing and staggering, and Jo placed a hand on his arm, trying to steady him. 

"Woah, there, buddy," she said to him. "How much have you had to drink?"

Castiel attempted a shrug, but it was more of a lunge forward. "Dunno," he slurred. Jo said something else to him, but it was drowned out by the music, and then Meg was there, pulling him away and bringing him back onto the dance floor by his hand, walking backwards and looking intently into his eyes. She began to sway with him, keeping their eyes locked. He swayed with her, and one moment she was a space away from him, just holding his hands, and the next, she was all over his body, mouth on top of his. They were in the centre of the floor, caught in a drunken, passionate embrace. Then she was moving away from him, a sly grin on her face as she looked at a spot behind him, making eye contact with somebody he couldn't see. In his haze, he didn't quite understand, but he thought she looked...smug.

And then she was gone, weaving among the dancers, eventually hidden by the people grinding across the dance floor. He blinked away the clouds in front of his eyes. 

After that, the night continued, bringing with it a hazy vision of shots and dancing and moving on the floor with sweaty people and colliding with the green eyes that always seemed to be watching him.

 

~_~

 

BUZZ BEEP BUZZ BEEP.

Castiel rolled over, moaning into his pillow.

BUZZ BEEP BUZZ BEEP.

He reached out, trying to silence the source of the noise.

BUZZ BEEP BUZZ BEEP.

He pushed himself up, blinking in the harsh light.

BUZZ BEEP BUZZ BE-

He pressed the 'off' button on his digital alarm clock and flopped back down onto his back. His head hurt with a roaring supernova. Slowly sitting up, he rubbed his temples. He had never really been hungover before. Not properly. This reminded him why.

Every part of his body ached. The only thing he wanted to do was lie back down and sleep forever, but he had to get up for History class. Placing his head in his hands, he wondered what on Earth had possessed him to get so drunk last night. He didn't even remember most of it. It all blurred together, drinking and dancing and kissing. The worst part was, he still remembered how good it felt. To forget for a while and get lost in music had been heaven. 

It took him about half an hour to get dressed because he kept forgetting what he was doing and staring into space, pants half on. When he finally had all his clothes on, he grabbed an aspirin pill from one of his drawers and downed it along with a glass of water. He checked the time. It was twenty to nine, so he packed his things for class and headed out without checking himself in the mirror. He was sure he looked like shit. 

The breeze was biting. He pulled his trench coat around himself and shivered. It was a short walk to the History building, and once he was inside he smiled gratefully. The heating was on, and he quickly warmed up. He pushed open the door to the lecture room and walked in, taking his seat. Meg was already there, sitting in her usual space and she caught his eye, mouth twitching in a smug, knowing smile. He ignored her.

As the room started to fill, Castiel watched the door. Sure enough, Dean Winchester entered, followed by Jo and Garth, no sign of a hangover. He looked as carelessly beautiful as usual, all spiky hair and full lips. Castiel mentally reprimanded himself as Dean glanced up and returned his line of sight - but there was none of his usual cruel mockery. He simply looked thoughtful, and maybe a little quizzical. Castiel had to admit, it was a little unsettling.

Professor Walker silenced them all and began talking. The class dragged on without many hiccups. It was the first time in a long time that Castiel didn't utter a word. Several times, Walker paused, expecting him to interrupt and say something smart or contradictory, but each time he stayed quiet, and Walker would frown and continue speaking. Castiel tapped his pen against his desk. He couldn't seem to be able to take in a word Walker was saying. 

All too soon, class was over and he packed up his stuff. People milled out of the room, but he took his time. Once the room was almost empty, he left the building and made his way back outside. He was planning to go back to his dorm to study. However, as he began to make his way back to the residential part of campus, a familiar low voice made him pause.

"Cas."

He spun around and found Dean standing in front of him, hands plunged in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said to him.

"I was just..." Dean trailed off, shifting on his feet. "I was, uh, wondering if you...wanted to come to the Roadhouse with me and the others tonight.. Jo's mom - she owns it."

Castiel stared at him. Dean was...inviting him out with friends? The Roadhouse was a bar several blocks away from the college, but Castiel had never been there himself.

"You...want me to go to the Roadhouse with you?" Castiel asked, utterly bewildered. Dean closed his eyes, looking utterly uncomfortable, but then he opened them again and practically glared at him.

"Look, that night in the park, I was completely trashed. It was disgusting. Anybody else would probably have left me there, but you took me to my dorm and cleaned me up. I don't know why you did and it's been eating me up for days. I know I said some stuff that night, but I don't remember what it was. I can make a pretty clear guess that I confessed some shit to you. Am I right?"

Castiel considered lying. Dean looked wrecked, and it was clear that he wanted desperately for the answer to be no. Still, Castiel had to tell him the truth.

"Yes," he sighed. "Yes, you admitted some stuff to me."

Dean swallowed, looking like his worst nightmare had come true.

Castiel squinted at him. "You don't owe me anything, you know."

Dean stared at him, incredulous. "Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"Of course I owe you!"

"No, you really don't."

"Stop that," Dean snapped. "Stop contradicting everything I ever say."

"Don't say stupid things, then."

"I'm not saying stupid things! I'm just-" Dean cut himself off. "God, you are so insufferable. Just come to the Roadhouse, okay? If not for me, for Meg. She thinks you're hot, by the way."

"I'm not interested."

Dean raised an eyebrow, the cockiness rapidly returning. "Really? That's not what it seemed like last night."

"I was drunk last night."

"Yeah, that's what they all say."

Castiel opened his mouth to reply snappily, but Dean's small smile showed that he was only teasing.

"Anyway, be there at nine," Dean continued. "I assume you know where it is."

"Yes."

"Good. See you then, Cas." Dean turned and walked away from him. Just at that moment, a strong breeze blew across the area and a piece of paper fluttered out of Dean's open bag. Castiel hurried to pick it up off the floor.

"Dean! This fell out of your-" He stopped talking, realising there was no point. Dean was already too far away to hear him. Resolving to give it to him when he saw him again that night, he looked at the piece of paper.

His breath caught in his chest.

The picture was a pencil drawing of a woman. She had the softest, kindest face he had ever seen, and long blonde hair curled down either side of her. She was wearing a shimmering white dress and behind her head was a bright white halo. Her eyes seemed to see right into him, piercing into his very soul and opening up the layers, smoothing out the creases. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Balthazar had told Castiel that Dean was an exceptional artist, but he hadn't realised that he was this good. The picture drew a strange emotion from him, and he was flabbergasted to find tears building in his eyes. Embarrassed, he roughly wiped them away and carefully folded the picture, trying hard not to crease or rip it, then put it safely in his bag and headed back to his dorm.

 

~_~

 

"So, let me get this straight. Dean sexy-ass-man-whore-party-scene Winchester has asked you to go to a bar with him? Even though he's supposedly your sworn enemy?"

Balthazar had draped himself on Castiel's bed, surveying him from his spot there. Castiel let his head loll back onto the couch, closing his eyes.

"Yes," he replied.

Balthazar cursed. "What the actual fuck? I've been trying since September to get the guy and his friends to even notice me, but after one night where you take him home after he's gotten himself too wasted to walk, you're suddenly his best friend? You don't even like the guy!"

Castiel was silent.

Balthazar sat up, narrowing his eyes. "Castiel?"

"What?" he replied innocently.

"You told me you didn't like Dean. You told me you wanted nothing to do with him."

"I didn't, you're right."

"And now?"

Castiel leaned up, frowning at him. "What do you want me to say? That he's not so bad? That he took me partying-"

"HE TOOK YOU PARTYING?!" 

Castiel winced.

"You hate partying," Balthazar growled. "You moan and swear at me every time I take you to a club. Don't tell me you've let him get under your skin as well."

"You're one to talk! You've been obsessed with him since he first arrived."

Balthazar was about to make an angry retort, but then his face softened and he laughed ruefully. "Look at us, arguing over Dean Winchester. Never thought I'd see the day."

Castiel sighed. "I'm sorry, Zar. It's not like I planned it."

"I know, I know. Just go tonight. Have fun. I'll be here. On my own."

"Don't play the pity card. You have friends outside of me."

"That's true. Maybe I'll find Crowley and we can do some heroin."

"I seriously hope you're joking."

Balthazar stood off the bed and stretched. "I'd better be off. Remember, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"You'd do everything, though."

"Not true. I draw the line at incest and necrophilia."

"Right."

Balthazar patted him on the shoulder and attempted to ruffle his hair, but he ducked away.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Cassie," he said over his shoulder as he headed to the door.

"Bye, Zar."

 

~_~

 

Castiel took a deep breath as he crossed the street to where the Roadhouse was. The chill night air blew his hair around and he nervously tried to flatten it. It was no use though. His hair never stayed flat.

As he approached the building, he could see Dean and his friends through the glass door. They were all sat at the bar, talking to the woman behind the counter whom he presumed was Jo's mom. When he pushed open the door, Dean turned around, hearing the noise. As soon as he saw that it was Castiel, he headed over to him.

"You made it," he said to him.

"I did,' Castiel replied.

Dean clapped his shoulder and brought him over to the others. They all greeted him with huge smiles. 

"Ellen, this is Cas," Dean said to Jo's mom, who smiled warmly at him.

"It's lovely to meet you, Cas," she welcomed, reaching over the bar to shake his hand.

He looked around. Behind them, booths with plush leather couches lined the walls. The smell of incense wafted around the room as a dark-haired woman stood in the far corner, singing a husky rendition of 'Blue Velvet'. It was a stark contrast to the nightclubs where he had previously seen Dean at. This place, rather than being jam-packed and rowdy, was more homely and people sat around, talking quietly amongst themselves. As if sensing what he was thinking, Ellen chuckled.

"Don't worry, kid," she told him. "It gets a lot louder than this after the ten o' clock mark."

Jo, Charlie, Meg and Garth grinned at him.

The next hour consisted of chatting with Ellen, drinking and talking to Dean and the others. Ellen told them all embarrassing stories about Jo when she was a baby, causing Jo to go through the night with a permanent scowl on her face. At one point, Garth placed a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek and she clocked him in the face, giving him a bloody nose. He took it good-naturedly, smiling giddily through the tissue he had to stem the blood flow.

Dean was currently telling Castiel a story about how, in third grade, he had climbed out of the window in the boys' toilets and spent the rest of the day underneath it, scaring anybody who went to pee in the urinal.

"Mind you, I got a right earful off the teachers afterwards. Worth it, though. To me, you see, rules are flexible. More often than not, you can kinda bend them into your own shape, y'know?"

Castiel smiled to himself. "That sounds like something my brother Lucifer would say."

Dean's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "You have a brother named after Satan?" 

"Hey, Lucifer was his name when he was an angel," Castiel replied defensively. "Before he fell, he was God's favourite. Kind of like my brother in real life. Actually, I used to be the favourite, but now-" He broke off. He had come very close to admitting to Dean what had happened in the summer. Frowning, he looked down at his bottle of beer, not willing to meet the other boy's gaze.

Dean cleared his throat. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean looked as though he was going to say something else, but then his eyes focussed on something behind Castiel and his face contorted into a mixture of disgust and surprise.

"Oh, my God," he murmured. "They actually had the nerve to show up here."

The others' faces were just as tight as Dean's and Ellen clenched her jaw.

"What?" Castiel asked, turning around. A guy maybe a few years older than him had entered, followed by four other men. A cruel smile played on his lips as he watched them, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

"That's Azazel and his minions," Dean informed him. "Couple of weeks ago, they came in here, totally drunk, and started smashing stuff up, for no reason. Can't believe they actually came back for more."

"Azazel," Ellen said coolly. "It would be lying to say it's a pleasure to see you back in here."

Azazel stepped forward and Castiel discovered that he was wearing yellow contacts, for some strange reason. 

"That's not very hospitable, is it now, Ellen? I thought you were supposed to be welcoming to everybody," Azazel drawled.

"Not to people who destroy and vandalise my bar. I could have you thrown out of here, you know."

"I don't think that'll be necessary."

Dean stepped towards him then, and Jo hissed at him to get back.

"Don't you think you've kind of overstayed your welcome by now, Azazel?" he growled.

Azazel threw back his head and laughed. "And what are you gonna do about it, Winchester? Have a paddy fit? Smack me over the head with your fancy college degree?"

Castiel could see Dean ball his fists.

"Dean, come on, it's fine. Cool it," said Ellen.

"No, Ellen, it isn't fine. This guy needs to fuck off."

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you not to say words like that?" Azazel mocked. "Oh, yes, that's right. I forgot. She was dead before she got the chance."

Dean's whole body stiffened. For a moment, he didn't move out of shock, but then he leapt into furious action and punched Azazel square across the face, slamming him into the counter. Azazel reeled, touching his hand to where his cheek had been hit. His eyes narrowed, and he pushed off the counter, lunging towards Dean and ramming his fist into his jaw. Dean crashed backwards into the wall, sending the picture hanging off it to go crumpling to the floor. 

"Hey, come on guys, that's enough!" Ellen yelled. Charlie hurried to Dean's side, helping him up.

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the anger at the assholes who seemed to think they owned the world, Castiel would never know. But he stepped forward, glaring up into Azazel's face.

"That wasn't nice," he said in what he hoped was a threatening voice.

"Cas, don't," Jo pleaded. He didn't look at her.

Azazel leaned down, looking into his face. "You lookin' to get punched, kid?"

"I think enough punching has gone on for one night." Castiel felt his defiance and resolve slipping away bit by bit as Azazel cocked his head dangerously.

"I'm not so sure about that."

Pain exploded along Castiel's left cheek as he stumbled back. Azazel had hit him. Behind him, the others gasped.

"Cas, are you okay?" Garth asked.

Instead of replying, Castiel stepped back towards Azazel. Now he was pissed. Curling his right hand into a fist, he punched Azazel, right on the same spot where Dean had. The area had to already be tender, so Castiel's hit would have hurt even more. Azazel fell back into one of his minions. He pushed away from them and slammed his fist right into Castiel's nose, causing blood to immediately spurt from it. Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt.

Castiel was preparing to punch him again, when Dean stepped between them and beat him to it. By now, Azazel's lip had split and a bruise was forming along his cheekbone.

One of his minions made a move towards Meg, but she kneed him right between the legs and he fell to the ground, groaning and clutching his groin. Meg laughed. 

"Okay, I think that's quite enough!" Ellen roared. She pointed a finger at Azazel, who was using one of his friends for support. "You, get the hell out of my bar. I never want to see your face again. As for you two," she glared at Dean and Castiel, "go and get yourselves cleaned up. I don't want you getting blood on my furniture."

Dean turned to him, and Castiel saw that the beginnings of a black eye were starting to show. Blood dripped from Castiel's nose and he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

"Are you all right?" Dean asked him.

Castiel considered it. Yes, his face hurt like a mother, but adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He'd never been in a proper fight before. His entire body buzzed, and he found himself disappointed that the dispute had ended so soon. He really wanted to punch Azazel again.

"I don't think I've ever been better."


	5. Holding me tight in our final hour...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little short, but I wanted it to be short and quiet and sweet, seen as the next chapter is pretty explosive - and that may or may not be literal. Just warning you all.

Castiel sat outside Benny's, having just finished his lunch, and was now catching up on some coursework. A large purple bruise had formed along the bridge of his nose and underneath his eyes. It hurt - a lot - but, in a way, he was weirdly proud of it. It felt like a battle scar. Which was inherently stupid, because he had never been in battle in his entire life.

The sound of the chair opposite him being scraped backwards made him look up from his work. He raised his eyebrows slightly as Dean Winchester slid into the seat, grinning at him, black eye in all its wince-inducing glory. His face looked painful. Blotches of black, purple and green covered his swollen eye, but it didn't seem to stop him from wearing his usual self-satisfied, shit-eating smile.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said. Dean drummed his right hand on the table, leaning back.

"Alright, Cas? Your nose looks like shit - no offense."

"None taken. I could say the same for your eye," Castiel replied evenly.

"Just came to see how you are, seeing as you took a pretty hard beating last night."

"I think Azazel took a harder beating than both of us, if you ask me."

Dean nodded. "You're right about that."

Jolting himself, Castiel reached down into his bag and pulled out the piece of paper with the drawing on. "I forgot to give you this last night. It fell out of your bag yesterday." He handed Dean the drawing, clearing his throat, somewhat awkwardly. "It's... She's beautiful, by the way. Do you know her?"

Dean took the paper from him and smoothed it out, looking down at the drawing, a peculiar expression on his face. "She's my mom," he said softly.

Oh. Castiel remembered last night, when Azazel had taunted Dean, provoking him by reminding him how his mother was dead.

"I'm sorry," he said to him, then winced. The words sounded so lame and empty, even to him, who had never really been able to pick up on things like that.

"She died when I was four," Dean explained, staring down at the picture. "It was very sudden, apparently. My brother, Sam, she was in his nursery. He was six months old. There was a gas leak in the wall, and it exploded. Set fire to the room, and she burned up. My dad got my brother out in time, but it was too late for her."

Castiel didn't know what to say. Dean had never confessed this much to him - at least not when sober. Something in his voice was so...raw and Castiel felt that anything he had to say would seem inadequate or insensitive. Dean looked back up at him then, a half-smile on his lips, uncharacteristically embarrassed.

"Not my best drawing, I have to say. Bit cliché. I'm usually more original, but I just wanted to draw her pure, you know?"

He found himself nodding, and he completely understood. "I do. You wanted her to be untainted."

Dean looked surprised. "Yeah. Not many people really understand when I try to explain it."

Castiel didn't want to intrude, but he was curious and he couldn't stop himself. "How long have you known you wanted to be an artist?"

Dean looked off into the distance thoughtfully. "I've always enjoyed drawing, but I guess I started getting serious when I was about thirteen. This new art teacher came into school and told us to paint how we saw ourselves. I painted this swirl of black smoke. I don't really know why, but it got to me, so started painting and drawing more and more, and now here I am." Dean frowned then, and it seemed as if something was bothering him. Suddenly, he turned, looking Castiel square in the eye. "Listen, Cas, I'm sorry about being kind of a jerk the past few weeks since we met. I think sometimes I forget how I can come off to people. I'm not the most considerate when it comes to the words that come out of my mouth."

Castiel shifted in his seat. "Well, I suppose I'm sorry too. I'm not the best for...thinking about the feelings of others. I tend to say the first thing that comes into my head."

Dean smiled, a genuine smile this time. "You know, I think we have more in common than we first thought."

"That's probably true," Castiel replied. Dean scratched behind his ear and checked his watch.

"I'd better be going, now. I've got Art class in fifteen minutes," he said regretfully.

"Okay. See you later."

Dean nodded and stood up, walking back to his shiny black car. Castiel watched him go, thinking about how odd the past week had been. Dean Winchester was quite a mystery. One moment, he seemed like a train wreck on the way to a messy end, but other times, like now, he just seemed...vulnerable. Castiel wondered at which point Dean had allowed his strange facade to melt away in front of him.

"You wanna watch out for that one," came a southern Louisiana drawl from behind. Castiel turned to find Benny, the shop owner, leaning against the table, apron on, his arms crossed as he watched Dean drive away. "Has a heart of gold, but more problems than a faulty car exhaust." He looked down at Castiel, considering him. "He looks at you differently, ya know that? Brought people round 'ere before, but looked at them all like they was some kind of prey. Maybe prey ain't the right word. But how he looked at them...like he was staking some claim. Not you, though. Seems he wants to keep you around. Just thought you should know." Benny didn't allow him to reply before he was off inside the little shop to serve more customers.

Castiel sat back in his seat. Huh. He hadn't realised that - hadn't realised that Dean regarded him differently than he did his hookups. But, if he was honest, that was to be expected. After all, he wasn't one of Dean's hookups. Was he? Actually, he had no idea what Dean even wanted from him. It seemed they had begun to form a kind of tentative friendship, but it didn't feel like any of the friendships he'd had before. It wasn't a fun, companionable air like he had with Balthazar. It was like there was always a double meaning to every word they spoke to each other, but he just didn't know what it was. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair and began to pack his work back into his bag. Nobody he'd ever met had been able to make him fucking think and second-guess himself every second of every minute of every hour of every day. It was becoming increasingly annoying.

At first, Dean had just been the incredibly arrogant, incredibly pretty asshole that he argued with a lot in class. Then, he had become this strange presence at every club he went to. He was always there, completely owning the place, drowning in alcohol and people and sweaty hands all over his body. Every night, Castiel would see him leave with a different person. Sometimes a male, sometimes a female. Sometimes older than him, sometimes as young as him. But it was always somebody different.

Then, after that night in the park, Dean had become something different yet again. Although, this time, it was harder for Castiel to pinpoint exactly what he was. They seemed to always be walking on eggshells around each other, practically going round in circles around one another. Castiel didn't even know why Dean had taken such an interest in him. Maybe it was because he still thought he owed him.

Or maybe it was something else.

 

~_~

 

As Castiel exited the Religious Studies building, he was immediately ambushed by a grinning Balthazar.

"Hey, Cassie," he said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "You'll never guess what."

"What?"

"Okay, so you know how I told you that Crowley was pretty high up in the party scene?"

"Yes, I remember the last forty-three times you've reminded me."

"Anyway, he invited me to this exclusive party in Club 200! Isn't that great!"

Castiel nodded disinterestedly. "Yes, that's amazing, Balthazar. Really interesting."

Balthazar's brow puckered. "Well, there's no need to be sarcastic. Just because you're up there with Dean Winchester doesn't mean you're too cool for me."

"I've never been 'cool' in my life, Zar," Castiel reminded him. Balthazar laughed.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You're too hipster to be considered 'cool'."

"I'm not a hipster."

"Oh, you totally are. "

"I'm not a hipster!"

"Yeah, whatever you say, Cassie. Whatever you say." Balthazar let go of him and began walking in the opposite direction. "I've gotta go, but I'll probably see you tomorrow. Don't kiss any frogs." With that, he sauntered towards the English building and Castiel smiled. His friend always seemed on overdrive, as though he'd drunk a tad too much coffee that morning. In that respect, they were polar opposites. In fact, they were polar opposites in almost every way.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Dean coming up beside him.

"Hello," Castiel said to him. Dean didn't reply, instead he looked off to where Balthazar was walking away, his jaw strangely tight. Something moved behind his eyes.

"That guy - Balthazar." Dean swallowed. "Is he...is he your boyfriend?"

Castiel was stunned into silence for a moment.

"What - me and Balthazar?" He burst out laughing. "No. GOD, no." He considered, frowning slightly. "There was a time when I thought... But that's over now. I was a teenager and he was cool. That part of me is gone now."

Dean's shoulders relaxed. If Castiel wasn't mistaken, he looked almost relieved. Did Dean have his eye on Balthazar?

Dean turned to him, short hair ruffled by the October breeze. "It's Halloween soon," he stated.

"Yes, I can see that," Castiel replied, fighting a small chuckle.

"Well, I know you see that. That's obvious," Dean replied, exasperated. "There's a Halloween party going on in Club 200."

Castiel squinted at him. "I suppose there'll be dressing up?"

Dean sniggered. "Yes, there'll be dressing up. It's not the end of the world," he added at Castiel's terrified look.

Before they could say anything else, a small blonde torpedo launched into Dean and proceeded to punch him repeatedly. At a closer look, Castiel saw that the torpedo was Jo.

"You fucking asshole, Dean Winchester!" she screeched, pumping her fists into his abdomen.

"Ouch, Jo...Jo stop it...Ow...Jo...Jo, cut it out, will you?" Dean grabbed hold of her arms and pinned them to her sides. "What the hell is wrong with you?" 

Jo shoved herself out of his grasp, glaring at him, her expression like acid. "Really, Dean? My boyfriend? My fucking boyfriend?"

Dean paused, brow furrowed, bewildered. "Your boyfriend?" he asked uncertainly.

"Brady!" Jo spat at him. When she saw his continually bemused face, she clenched her fists. "You can't even remember the name of the boy you fucked last night?"

Dean's face transformed from confusion info horrified comprehension. His eyes grew wide. "Oh. Oh, shit, Jo. That guy was your boyfriend?"  
"You bet your ass he was my boyfriend! I suppose you forgot that small detail when you were having sex with him."

"Shit. Jo, I'm sorry-"

"No," Jo cut him off. "No, you don't get to be sorry. You're pathetic, Dean. You're so starved for affection that you have sex with anyone and everyone and then you get all hurt and lonely when they leave straight afterwards. You act like this effortlessly cool, party-hard asshole that everybody loves, but deep down you're just a sad, scared little boy. Everyone has problems, Dean. But the difference is, they deal with them maturely, and with dignity. The devil-may-care act isn't going to last forever. Sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to your past." She hitched her bag further up her shoulder, turned on her heel and marched away. 

Dean stared after her, shell-shocked. As she disappeared into the crowd and out of view, he didn't move. The silence stretched until Castiel couldn't bear it.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly. Dean blinked at him, as if only just noticing he was there. A forced smile appeared on his face and he laughed, but the sound was slightly off.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Anyway, I'd better be going. Got art class in-" he checked his watch, "-three hours. But I'd better get ready. Y'know. Lots to do." He hurried off, speed-walking away from Castiel in the complete opposite direction to the Art building.

 

~_~

 

Two days later, when Castiel entered history class, he was alarmed to find that Dean was already sitting in his seat with his friends. He never got to class before Castiel. Did that mean he was late?

When Dean looked up and saw Castiel, he grinned and waved him over.

"Hey, Cas! Come and sit with us!" He turned to the desk next to him, discovering that a boy was already sitting in it. Dean scowled at him. "Go on. Scram." 

The kid squeaked and picked up his things, scarpering away to another empty desk. Castiel sighed, smiling nonetheless, and sunk into the chair. "Hello, Dean," he said to him.

Meg and Garth smiled at him. Garth was wearing the sock puppet on his hand again. 

"Cas, this is Mr Fizzles. Mr Fizzles, say hello to Cas." He opened the sock puppet's mouth. "'Hey, Cas. I'm Mr Fizzles'!" he announced in a high-pitched voice. Meg rolled her eyes.

He noticed that Jo was sitting beside Meg, arms crossed tightly over her chest, lips pressed together. She was staring straight ahead, not looking at any of them. 

Garth chattered to him using Mr Fizzles until Walker entered, silencing them. The class passed without much of a blip. At one occasion, Castiel put his hand up and said something, and when he glanced at Dean, he looked like he was about to argue, but he kept his mouth shut - which looked like a great effort.

When the class was over, they stood up and filed out of the room. Jo stalked off ahead of them, and Castiel saw that Dean was watching her go, a dark look on his face.

"When is she going to forgive me?" he muttered bitterly.

"It has been only two days," Castiel said, unable to hold himself back.

"I don't see what her huge problem is. It's not like he could have been that great of a boyfriend in the first place, if he was so willing to cheat on her after a few drinks. He wasn't even that good anyway. My standards are pretty low, so if I didn't enjoy it, she couldn't have really either." 

Castiel tried not to think about the fact that Dean and Jo had screwed the same guy. It sort of made him want to gag.

Dean suddenly stopped short, swinging around to face him.

"Tell me about yourself," he blurted.

Castiel sputtered, taken aback. "I... What?"

"I barely know anything about you. Talk to me."

"Why?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "For once, could you not question everything I do? Here-" he guided Castiel out of the crowd, so that they were away from the people, and sat them down on a bench. "Just tell me something."

"But - What?" Castiel was extremely discombobulated.

"Anything!"

Castiel wondered if somebody had slipped him something. Roofies, maybe. Or maybe Dean was just that spontaneous. It was hard to tell with him. He was a little unpredictable.

"What's your full name?" Dean asked.

"Castiel James Shurley."

Dean nodded, as if filing the information away for later. "Okay. Family?"

"I have a sister named Anna, and three brothers named Gabriel, Lucifer and Samandriel."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Wow. Your family must be pretty religious."

"Yes. I mean, we all were when we were younger. Lucifer and Gabriel started to have doubts, and then I did too. Samandriel's still too young to be sure and I don't know about Anna."

"Mom and Dad?"

Castiel swallowed. "My mom is called Rachel and my father is called Chuck. They're divorced now, though. My dad writes cheesy books. You won't recognise his real name. He writes under a pseudonym. 'Carver Edlund'." Castiel heard the disgust in his own voice.

Dean arched an eyebrow. "I'm sensing some sore spots?"

He found himself nodding. "For one, I can't not be ashamed of those books he writes. They're so crap, you have no idea."

"Carver Edlund, huh? I think I've read one of his. Are his books the ones about those Harrison brothers that drive around the country and fight monsters and shit?"

"Yes," Castiel said tightly.

"Seriously?" Dean's eyebrows were practically above his hairline. "But those books are, like, New York Times Bestsellers!"

"Doesn't mean they're good. Just means the public have bad taste in literary material."

"So, if you don't mind me saying... You hate your dad? Because he writes bad books?"

"Among other reasons."

Dean seemed to sense that Cas didn't want to talk about it, so he didn't press. "It's just that - I kinda hate my dad too."

"I, um, I heard he was in prison."

"Yeah..." Dean trailed off, looking slightly sheepish. "I don't actually hate him for the reason he was locked up. It's more for how he raised us. Me and my brother, I mean."

"Oh?"

"It was like some kind of military camp. You remember how I told you that my mom died when I was four? Well, I think something about it kinda broke him. We were never allowed to have friends, never allowed to go out, he always had to know exactly where we were. He took us hunting in the forest near where we lived every weekend."

"That...sounds like an awful way to grow up."

Dean laughed darkly. "He never neglected us or some shit like that. It was just pretty constraining, you know?"

Dean was lost in thought, so Castiel was able to look at him properly. He really was quite beautiful. His green eyes were framed by long eyelashes that any girl would kill to have, and his features were delicate. After seeing the picture Dean had drawn of his mother, it was clear that he took after her. Something about his face was strangely elegant. Castiel could see why so many people were so eager to have sex with him. He could imagine those dark eyes roaming up and down a naked body as-

Woah. What the fuck? That had been weird. Castiel had come very close to...fantasising. He thought about what Gabriel had said. What had he called it? UST. Unresolved Sexual Tension. But that didn't exist between Castiel and Dean. It didn't-

"You do realise that I know you're staring at me," Dean said without looking at him.

Well shit.


	6. If I get a little prettier can I be your baby...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning for you all, I'm going to be away from tomorrow until Halloween with no wifi, so I won't be able to post any new chapters for a week :( Sorry guys!

Anna lay sprawled across the floor of her dorm, painting her nails black. She turned to Castiel, who was lying on his back on her bed.

"You know, you should probably start getting into costume," she told him.

Castiel only just refrained from scowling. It was Halloween, and Anna had put together his costume three days prior. It consisted of tight black jeans, black belt, a black shirt and black wings. She wanted him to go as a fallen angel. She'd hand-made the wings, and created them in such a way that instead of sticking out, they folded down his back. In all honesty, he was dreading it.

"I'm trying to procrastinate as long as possible," he explained to her.

"It's not the end of the world, Cassie."

"Yes, Dean already told me that."

Anna leaned back, looking him in the eye, expression quizzical. "What's the deal with that, anyway? I thought you and him were, like, mortal enemies or something."

"Don't be ridiculous, Anna," Castiel snorted. "It's a little dramatic to call us mortal enemies, don't you think?"

"Whatever," Anna mumbled, blowing on her nails. She was dressing as a vampire, and was obviously going for the emo-Twilight look. She would make a good vampire, though. Her hair was a dark shade of red, and her skin was almost ghostly pale.

"And anyway," Castiel continued, stretching his arms above his head. "The actual party doesn't start for two hours."

"Doesn't hurt to be prepared though, right?"

He grinned. "Suppose so."

"What's Balthazar doing for Halloween?"

"Well, turns out that the 'exclusive party' that he was on about was, in actual fact, the Halloween party. Which isn't all that exclusive."

Anna chuckled, screwing the lid on the nail polish bottle and putting it to one side. "I'll bet he wasn't happy about that."

"Are you serious? He was fuming. He thought he'd finally made it to the top. Honestly, his weird obsession is all he ever talks about anymore."

"He's always had that obsession, though," Anna said, frowning.

"I know, but we use to be able to talk about other stuff." He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe we're just not that compatible anymore."

Anna leaned over, pinching him in the leg, hard.

"Ow!" he yelped, yanking his leg back. Her jaw worked as she glared at him.

"Don't you ever let me catch you saying that again. You and Balthazar have been best friends for years. Just because you're finally realising you have a mind of your own doesn't mean you have to stop being his friend."

Castiel rubbed his leg where she'd pinched him. "Hey, what do you mean, 'I'm finally realising I have a mind of my own'?"

Anna shrugged her shoulders. "You know. You used to spend all your time just following him around like a lost puppy, like he was some sort of god. It's just good to see you functioning without him. I knew college would be good for you."

Castiel flopped back down, staring at the ceiling. "I didn't know that I did that."

She patted him sympathetically. "Don't get all sad on me. It's just because you were an impressionable kid, and, let's face it, you never had many friends before he came along. He was good for you in that respect. Cracking your shell, I mean. He opened you up, out of your cocoon. But now you gotta spread your wings, you little butterfly."

He eyed her sideways. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked. She tutted and swatted at him.

"Come on, you know what I mean. Your life doesn't have to revolve around Balthazar."

He nodded absently, looking at a spot behind her. He shook himself. "Well, better get this costume on, then, if you're so desperate to be an hour and a half early."

She turned away as he got changed. They might have been siblings, but they allowed each other some semblance of modesty. Once he was ready, she turned around, clapping her hands and squealing.

"Oh, my gosh, you look awesome!" she said excitably.

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Stop being such a grouch for once," she grumbled. "Just let me have this moment of happiness, okay? I finally got my brother to wear an outfit I made him."

"Which I am starting to regret painfully."

"Do you always have to dampen my mood?"

"Yes."

Anna rolled her eyes and turned to where her costume was hanging on the doorknob of her closet. When she had it on, she inspected herself in the mirror. Twisting left and right, she fiddled with the hem.

"Are you sure this is all right?"

"Anna, it's fine," he reassured. She narrowed her eyes in the mirror, disbelieving.

"Really? Don't you think it's a little tacky?"

"Anna, seriously, it's completely sufficient."

She fixed her panicked gaze on him. "Just sufficient? Oh, fuck. That's not what I wanted! I wanted it to exceed sufficient! I wanted it be amazing. Like, blow-your-mind awesome. But it's just sufficient. That's freaking great. I'm never going to get laid tonight now. I haven't had sex in three months! Three months!"

Castiel wrinkled his nose. "I didn't need to know that."

She scoffed. "It's not like it's a secret that your sister has sex. I have sex with people. You've had sex before, haven't you?"

"Well... Yes, but-"

"Point. Sex is a thing. We're not thirteen anymore." She raised her eyebrows and nodded in a 'so-there' gesture.

"Whatever. Just please stop saying the word 'sex'."

"Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?" Anna smirked at him.

"No, just-"

"Sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex."

He wrinkled his nose at her. "God, you are so fucking childish."

She straightened, smoothing her velvet cape out behind her and fixing her hair. "You're the one that insisted I play 'Hungry Hungry Hippos' with you up until you were fourteen years old."

"Doesn't count. 'Hungry Hungry Hippos' is a quality board game," he answered, lying back down on the bed.

She made a sort of half-squealing-half-sputtering noise and flapped her hands at him.

"Don't lie back! You'll squish and crumple the wings! Sit up! Sit UP! Cassie-"

"All right, all right, calm down!" he yelled, sitting up and glowering at her.

"Don't look at me like that,' she said to him. "It's not a crime to want my brother to look perfect."

"I'm not your doll," he said, bristling. 

"Stop being so melodramatic. I'm not turning you into my doll. Quit moaning."

He glanced at the clock on the wall. "We have one hour and forty minutes, by the way. Better hurry up. We might be late."

"Why do you continue to make fun of me?" she asked, sighing defeatedly.

"Because it's easy to push your buttons."

Reaching over to slap his arm, she grabbed the TV remote while she was at it. They flicked through the channels together, sniping at each other and killing the time until the party. Castiel felt a familiar, warm feeling in his stomach. Doing this, joking with Anna, sitting next to her on the couch... It reminded him of home. He remembered, the days when his family had been simpler; when they'd all gotten along, spending afternoons in the living room together, playing scrabble or monopoly. Bearing in mind that their scrabble and monopoly games had always ended in disaster. Lucifer would use all the means he could to cheat, and then Anna would get cross and go off in a strop, which made Castiel cry, and then Gabriel would eventually win, because the others were too busy arguing. Then everybody would storm off to their rooms, leaving a despairing Chuck and Rachel to tidy away the board and go off to tend to baby Samandriel and cook dinner. Although it had always ended in dispute, in hindsight, those were the times that Castiel treasured. 

When Chuck and Rachel got divorced and they'd all started to grow up, they'd stopped playing board games, stopped interacting. Lucifer began to hang out with guys that reeked of weed in cemeteries, Gabriel worked on suspicious experiments in his room, Anna went out partying with her friends every night, Castiel sat alone reading books and Chuck shut himself away in his office, writing his books. Sometimes Castiel would play with a demanding Samandriel and his toy soldiers, but more often than not his brother would eventually tell him to go away, insisting that he 'wasn't playing it right'. 

Castiel's reminiscing was cut short when Anna poked him, telling him it was time for the party.

"You okay?" she asked him. You kinda spaced out for a while."

"I'm fine," he told her. "Just thinking."

She nodded, although somewhat doubtfully, and walked into her bathroom to apply more lipstick. Castiel self-consciously checked his costume in the mirror, smoothing it out. He had to give credit to Anna - she had managed to make him look as normal as someone dressed as a fallen angel could. 

Anna emerged from the bathroom, crossing the room to fix his hair, running her hands through it. She stepped back, assessing her handiwork.

"There we go. You look like a roguish, devilish bad-boy angel. Handsome."

"Great, so I look like a character straight out of a teen paranormal romance novel," he mumbled.

"Hey, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Everybody's attracted to that character."

"I don't-"

"Shut up and stop whining for once. We have to go, else we'll be late. Let's go."

She slipped her arm through his and marched him out the door, shutting it behind her. Turning to him, she smiled toothily, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth.

"Ready, little brother? The partygoers aren't going to know what's hit them."

 

~_~

 

Castiel stood in front of the doors, music already pumping in his ears. Anna shifted impatiently beside him.

"Can we go inside yet?" she questioned, tapping her right foot on the ground.

"Hang on," he said. He looked at the doors. Through the little window above the knob he could see people in costume dancing and drinking, laughing and making out. Colours flashed on the dance floor. Three...two...one... "Okay, now we can go inside."

"Thank you," Anna said, exasperated, and pushed the doors open. As they walked into Club 200, Castiel blinked. Of course, he'd been in here before, but not with so many people at one time. Nurses, sailors, skeletons, pirates, cats and even several ballerinas walked and danced past him, chittering amongst themselves. Black and orange streamers hung from the ceiling, and several flashing pumpkins lined the vast walls. Honestly, it was really quite cheesy, but somehow, it was charming at the same time.

He squeezed through the crowds, soon reaching the bar. Looking around, he recognised some people from his history and religious studies classes. The barman nodded at him, and he ordered a vodka, surprising himself. Since when did he order spirits at the bar?

Somebody clapped a hand on his shoulder and he twisted, finding Garth, Meg, Jo, Dean and Charlie. Garth grinned at him. He had come as a pirate, and a fake gold tooth glinted in his mouth. Meg resembled a slutty mouse, but it was hard to tell. It could have been a rabbit. Meanwhile, Jo was the 'Carol Danvers' version of Ms. Marvel, and Charlie, by the looks of it, had dressed as Ginny Weasley.

He looked at Dean. He had gone all-out James Dean style, complete with slicked back hair. He was wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and a different leather jacket than usual, while a smirk played on his lips. His eyes flicked slowly and lazily all the way up and down Cas's body, making him shiver, wishing he was wearing more layers, for some reason. He felt exposed. Maybe he should do up the top buttons of his shirt.

"Hey, Cas!" Garth bellowed in his ear, making him wince away from the sudden loud sound. 

The others all ordered drinks and dispersed. Jo and Charlie headed off to dance, while Garth wandered off to chatter at some people, sloshing his drink everywhere. Meg turned to Castiel, eyeing him all over just like Dean had, but this time, he didn't feel quite so exposed. He just felt scrutinised. Apparently satisfied, she looked back up at his face, smiling and laying a hand on his arm.

"Let's dance-"

"What's up Cas?" She was interrupted by Dean pushing in front of her and leaning against the counter, grinning at hm. Meg peered over his shoulder, scowling.

"Hello, Dean." 

"I was just wondering when you'd show. Was beginning to think you'd bailed on me." Dean took a swig of his drink.

"Well, I'm here."

Dean chuckled, as if sharing an inside joke with himself. "Oh, that you are."

Castiel considered him. It had been over three weeks now since he'd taken Dean home from the park, and they'd fallen into a pattern of drinking and partying together. Cas had drunk and danced more in those three weeks than he had in his entire life. It was almost laughable - if only his father could see him now.

Meg appeared next to them, watching Cas watching Dean watch him. It was quite a peculiar scene. Nobody was speaking, only looks exchanged in a kind of three-way-stare.

All of a sudden, the heavy silence was broken by Meg grabbing Castiel's hand and yanking him away from Dean. 

"Dance with me," she pressed, pulling him onto the floor. He let himself get dragged away, but his eyes stayed connected with Dean's as he walked backwards. Something hid behind Dean's eyes when he leaned back, propping his elbow up on the counter and tilting his head. His jaw moved from side to side.

Castiel shut his eyes and turned around, following through with the now-familiar actions of melting with the music. Meg's hands were on his waist and he subtly moved them up slightly, away from his ass. He knew by now how to dance with Meg, but still manoeuvre himself so that she got close, but never quite close enough. She had tried to kiss him several times since the first time, but he had deftly twisted away or moved his head so that she caught his cheek. He didn't want to lead her on. Truthfully, he didn't know how to explain to her that he wasn't interested without telling her the truth about himself...

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. Shutting everything else off, he he tuned himself into the music, getting caught in the rush and sweat. Meg moved with him, closing her eyes too and catching the beat. The ground underneath them shifted with a mixture of vibrations and dancing and he drifted into the movements.

The night continued on. Somewhere along the line, Cas had discarded his wings and they lay in a heap in a corner. More of his buttons had come undone when he had grown too sweaty, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. He'd sat on the leather couches with Jo and Charlie and at one point, he recalled doing lines of shots on the counter with Garth.

He had seen Dean a few times through the night. Dean was always with someone or other, drinking or dancing or sitting on the couches and whispering into their ear. Strangely, he hadn't kissed anybody once. Several people had tried, but he'd deflected, turning away from them. 

Cas was aware of Meg taking him by his arm and to the floor again. His mind was fuzzy around the edges at this point. She seemed eager to take advantage of this, and she pressed close to him, lightly kissing his neck. He knew he should stop her, but by now he didn't care. However cruel it was, he let her continue and moved with the music as her tongue flicked over were she'd kissed him.

Finally, he softly pulled away from her and danced a safer distance away. Her mouth curled downwards in annoyed disappointment, but she obliged, continuing to dance and not moving to kiss him again.

Maybe it was the faint pricking at the back of his neck. Maybe it was the adrenaline that suddenly jump-started his heart rate. Maybe it was nothing. But Cas turned around in the middle of the dance floor, finding Dean standing several feet away, gaze locked on him. He was, for once, alone, and he stood stock-still. 

Castiel watched silently as he began to walk forwards. He kept walking, eyes fixed, until he right in front of Cas, their faces mere inches apart. One side of his mouth curled up as his eyes flickered down to Castiel's body.

It was very different to how Meg danced with him. She was all hands and body, pressing and grinding and moving up and down. Dean didn't grind. He moved his hips, twisting slowly, keeping their faces close. His hands landed on Cas' waist and he pulled them closer. Castiel swallowed. The music roared loudly in his ears, but his muscles felt weak. Dean danced, guiding his movements, hands still on his waist. He took his time, not caring that he wasn't in time with the music, and Cas could feel everything. He smelled a mixture of alcohol and leather and cologne, and weirdly, it was more intoxicating than the vodka. Never in his life had he been this close to Dean, feeling every part of him, inhaling his scent so deeply.

Then, abruptly, Dean moved away from him, stepping backwards. He began to back away, and Castiel was confused for a moment, before he saw that Dean was walking towards the doors. For a second, he hesitated, heart thudding an unsteady beat, but then he shook himself and followed Dean.

He walked after Dean, who exited out of the doors. When he reached the doors, he pushed them open, shocked momentarily by the sudden blast of cold air. They'd left outside the back doors and around him was a parking lot, of which four cars inhabited. He looked around, discovering Dean leaning against the wall to his left. His gaze was hooded as he pushed off the wall, heading slowly towards Castiel. In the darkened, moonlit night he was as beautiful as ever, parts of his hair escaping the grease-back and sticking up. He stopped short just in front of Cas, swallowing.

"We're very drunk," he whispered hoarsely.

"I know," Cas replied, voice also hoarse.

Without warning, Dean's mouth was suddenly on top of his and he was kissing him. At first, Castiel was frozen, but he quickly broke out and reciprocated, reaching up to twist his hands in Dean's hair. Dean groaned and shoved him against the wall, biting down on his lip. Cas felt his tongue slide over the bite as he braced his hands against the wall either side of his head. The kiss deepened further and Dean's hands slowly slid down the wall and came to rest on his waist. Dean pressed against him and he placed bruising kiss along Castiel's jaw and on his neck, right on top of where Meg's lips had been. He moved back up and kissed his mouth again as their tongues slid to meet each other.

Castiel's entire body was heated into overdrive. Dean's kiss eradicated every other incoherent thought as his tongue flicked against the roof of Cas's mouth. His every thought was heat and sex and fire and-

Hang on. That heat. It couldn't merely be the kiss that was causing heat that intense. In fact, he realised, the left side of his body was sweating and clammy as heat pricked and burned at it. Just then, Dean gasped and pulled away from him, whipping around.

"Holy shit," he murmured.

Holy shit indeed. One of the cars was on fire. Literally. Flames erupted and licked at the metal, growing and spitting. Cas made out a figure beside the burning car, jumping and whooping, pumping his fists in the air.

"Yeah, baby! Halloween! Whoo hoo! This bitch is on faaay-aaaah!"

Castiel rubbed his eyes, checking if what he saw was real. The guy was doing a little dance next to the flaming automobile, attempting the moonwalk. 

Then, the flames began spitting more violently. A low rumbling noise came from inside the car. The figure paused in his dance, beginning to step backwards.

"Oh, shit. Get back! Get back!" He ran away from the car, diving for cover. Dean and Cas watched, speechless, as the car exploded, erupting in massive flames. Somebody came sprinting out of the building, holding out a fire extinguisher and spraying it at the car. It didn't do much good, but then eight more people emerged from the building, all spraying fire extinguishers at the car. Eventually, they managed to quench the flames, putting the car out. Someone lapped the fire-starter upside the head, yelling furiously at him. 

Cas looked sideways at Dean. What an unfortunate time to be interrupted by a Halloween-enthused pyromaniac. Admittedly, they were both extremely drunk and probably wouldn't even remember it in the morning. Maybe that was for the best.  
Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Castiel interjected.

"We should go inside," he said.

Dean's face fell, but he looked at the ground and nodded. They entered the building through the doors, immediately assaulted by the bodies and music. Soon enough, he lost Dean and the night carried on as if nothing had happened.

 

~_~

 

Cas had no idea how long later it was, but sometime, when a lot of people had headed home to crash, he and the others were seated around the leather couches. He was squashed between Dean and Charlie, and they were talking quietly amongst themselves. Dean and Meg were passing a cigarette between each other.

"So, am I right in saying," Garth spoke up, slurring and leaning forward, "that absolutely none of us got laid tonight?"

"That's correct," Jo confirmed.

Garth flopped down. "Ah, that's depressing. We are total losers."

"But we're awesome losers," Charlie countered.

"I like this though," Jo said dreamily. "Us all together, united losers. Except for Dean, because he's a total fucktard."

Dean rolled his eyes. He turned his head to face Cas, expression shifting to something softer. He held the cigarette out to him, offering.

Castiel shook his head. "I've never had one before," he confessed.

Dean considered this for a moment. Then he twisted so that he was fully facing Cas, crossing his legs underneath himself.

"Here. Let's try something. I'm gonna take a drag, and then I'm gonna blow it out, and you're going to inhale it. Got it?"

Castiel nodded, eyeing the cigarette. Dean brought it up to his lips, inhaling it deeply. His eyelids fluttered as he lowered it, eyes wide and not leaving Cas's. He leaned towards him, opening his mouth and blowing the smoke out. Castiel closed his eyes, leaning closer too, and he sucked it in, feeling the smoke entering his lungs. Slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes to find Dean staring at him, face open in something like awe.

In the dim of the now-quiet club, surrounded by new friends, facing the damaged boy with the green eyes, Castiel smiled.


	7. It hurts, this noose around my neck...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the wait, guys, but this chapter's finally up! I'm so happy and grateful for all the positive comments, so thank you so much ;)

Castiel sat outside on campus on a bench with Charlie, catching up on coursework. The wind ruffled his papers, and he massaged his forehead, growing frustrated. Charlie sat up on the bench table, kicking her legs about and chattering to him.

"...so I said to her that she shouldn't go on letting him push her around like that. I mean, just because she's a woman, doesn't mean she has to be so meek and submissive all the time. That might have been acceptable in the fifties, but definitely not now. It's probably a little harsh but she needs to learn some self-respect. She is a strong, empowered girl, but when she's around him she becomes this quiet little mouse. I said to her; 'Girl, you've gotta get out of that relationship. He's a controlling asshole and you deserve so much better'. She said to me; 'Charlie, you're so right. How are you so right all the time? You are the ultimate best'... Okay, maybe she didn't say that, but she might as well have. Because three days later, guess what? She kicked him to the kerb. And good riddance, I say, because-"

"Dean kissed me," Cas blurted, then immediately clamped his lips together. Charlie stopped dead in her speech and whipped her head to stare at him, at a loss for words. She opened and closed her mouth several times, then said;

"Shit, I'm so sorry, Cas." If he wasn't mistaken, she sounded...angry. "Dean always does this," she continued fiercely. "He always makes a friendship he could keep, and then he messes it up by turning it into something it doesn't have to be. He forgets that not everybody sleeps with anything they can find. Oh, my gosh, please say this doesn't mean you won't hang out with us anymore-"

'And I kissed him back,' he interrupted. Again, Charlie's speech froze and she blinked slowly, eyes popping. 

"Uh... What?"

"I... I kissed him back?" Castiel replied, rapidly surmising that telling Charlie had been a terrible idea.

"You kissed him back?" she repeated, eyebrows knitted together.

"That is what I just said."

"Wow... I, um, I don't know what to say. I never thought you'd go for his sort. I mean, we all guessed ages ago that you were... You know."

"Guessed I was what?" Cas questioned, leaning towards her.

"Well... You know." When Castiel continued to stare at her vacantly, she sighed, exasperated. "Gay. We guessed you were gay."

He paused, leaning back and frowning up at her. "Oh. You did?"

She scratched her chin sheepishly. "Yeah."

"That's... That's not what Meg seemed to think." What a stupid thing to say in that current situation. He'd just spoken the first thought that had come into his head.

"Meg's been in denial for weeks. Don't worry. She'll give up soon enough." She smiled at him. "We don't have a problem, you know. With you being gay. I am too, actually. A lesbian, obviously. Which is cool, 'cause it means we'll never be in competition for guys. Not that it would have mattered anyway, seen as you've got the hots for Dean." She smirked.

He elected to ignore that. "But how did you know I was...gay?" He struggled with the last word.

"Well, for one, you never showed interest in any girls, not even when Meg was dribbling all over you. At first, we thought it was because you probably had some girl back home, but when you never mentioned her, that theory kind of fell through. But then there was one time when you got all flustered when the guy who was temporarily working for Ellen at the bar two weeks ago was talking to you. Plus, you spend loads of time with that Balthazar guy."

Cas threw up his hands. "Why does everybody seem to think I'm in love with Balthazar?"

"Okay, okay, calm down," she replied defensively. Her face quickly grew solemn, though, and she looked him directly in the eye, face almost sad. "I have to warn you, though. Dean isn't.... He's only ever been in one serious relationship, and it didn't end well. At all. Nowadays, he doesn't stick around for people. It hasn't exactly been an easy few years, and he hasn't been coping very well, as you can already tell. So, he drowns his sadness in vodka and sex. What I'm trying to say is, if you end up falling for Dean, you could get hurt."

"It was just a kiss, Charlie," he said quietly. "It was Halloween, we were both considerably drunk, and it didn't mean anything. I'm not about to start quoting poetry to him underneath a balcony. All we did was kiss, and then we went inside. I doubt he even remembers it."

Charlie chewed on the inside of her cheek, but still nodded. "Okay. I just don't want to see either of you coming out of this messy."

"It was just a kiss," he repeated. "That's all, I swear. It's nothing. I kissed Meg once before - which probably was a large mistake - and nothing else happened. I promise you, it didn't mean anything, and it's not going to happen again."

"All right, then." She nibbled on her lip. "Maybe I could talk to Dean-"

"No!" Cas shook his head violently. "Definitely don't do that. That is the worst possible thing you could do."

Charlie nodded, lips twisting ruefully. "I guess you're right." She leaned back on the table, stretching her arms above her head and looking up at the cloudy sky. "Let's talk about something else. I've run out of shows to watch since I finished marathoning 'Lost Girl'."

Castiel crossed his arms on the table and leaned his chin on them. "There's always 'Firefly'. I brought the DVD set with me if you want to borrow it."

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed. "I watched every 'Firefly' episode years ago."

"Well, I know that. But you could re-watch. It's what I do."

"Because you have no life."

"That's coming from the girl who watched every episode so far of 'Lost Girl' in three days while making her way through an entire tub of ice cream." Castiel lay his pen down, abandoning his work.

"At least I don't frequently re-watch episodes of a show that was cancelled eleven years ago," Charlie shot back. Castiel found himself smiling, watching her arch an eyebrow and lean back on her hands. It was quite incredible to think that just over two months ago he'd had nobody to talk to except his sister and his slightly obsessive, high maintenance best friend. The friends he'd made couldn't exactly be classed as normal, but he was starting to figure out what it felt like to be young, around people who partied and kissed and gossiped. It was like he was experiencing high school a couple of years too late.

"What?" Charlie asked suddenly.

Cas blinked. "What?" he repeated dumbly.

"You spaced out for a bit and started looking at me all weird," she explained.

"Oh," was all he could say.

"You do that a lot." She tilted her head, eyes softening. "Did you know that?"

"No?"

"It's not bad or anything!" she hurried to say. "You just...tend to stare at people a little."

"Oh." 

"I'm not saying it's creepy! I mean, with my feminism rants and LARPing, I don't think I'm in any place to judge on creepiness, but I just - you know - noticed."

"Oh." He was beginning to feel like a monosyllabic broken record.

"Did you know you did that?"

He thought about it. "Well, Balthazar would point it out a lot back when we first met, but then I suppose he just got used to it." He furrowed his brow. "Do I do it too much?"

"No! Well, I don't really know. My gauge of 'doing too much of stuff' tends to be a little different to most people's. Like, Jo says I spend too much time on my laptop playing World of Warcraft or hacking into various mainframes, but I disagree. And Meg says I spend too much time talking to people and not enough time listening, even though you and I just had a whole conversation where we discussed your current problem. So I don't know."

"I know what you mean," Castiel replied. "Anna keeps telling me I spend too much time studying - which is what you're supposed to do in college - and Balthazar says I use up too much effort judging or snapping at people and not enough effort 'getting to know them'. He says that's why I don't have many friends, but that doesn't make sense, because I have made several friends since I've come here."

Charlie snickered and patted his cheek, grinning. "It seems I have found a kindred spirit, my friend."

She chatted on to him, and he listened patiently, letting her talk. It was quite a good dynamic. Charlie preferred to talk about whatever idea that popped into her head, while Cas preferred to stay quiet, listening to her and trying not to think about the fact that he stared too much, or how his chest had twanged painfully when they'd discussed his kiss with Dean. 

 

~_~

 

The scent of incense immediately assaulted Castiel's nostrils when he pushed open the door of the record store. Glancing around, he took in his surroundings. The walls were a dark shade of blue, and several shelves lined the middle of the floor, stacked with records that had names of unfamiliar bands and artists printed on them. 'Stairway to Heaven' was playing softly on overhead speakers. Along the right wall sat a counter, behind which a young woman sat, flipping through a rock magazine. Her hair was dark brown - almost black - and it flowed softly to just below her shoulders. Upon hearing the bell that signalled the opening of the door, she looked up and smiled.

Beside him, Dean stepped forward. "Hey, Lisa," he said, grinning.

"Dean. Finally deigned to come back for a visit? I was starting to think you'd never show up." Her voice and smile were both soft like her hair. She peered behind him. "Brought your friends, too. Hey, guys."

"Hi, Lisa," Jo, Meg, Garth and Charlie chorused behind him. They all emerged further into the store and began browsing the shelves. Cas watched Dean as he walked up to the counter and leaned against it. Lisa tilted towards him on her elbows, abandoning her magazine.

"How've you been?" she asked Dean, staring at him intently.

"Good. I've been good," he replied absently, scraping on the wood of the counter with his fingernail. Lisa narrowed her eyes and poked him.

"You expect me to believe that?" 

Dean rolled his eyes. He scanned the store until he spotted Cas and his eyes widened, as if he'd only just noticed him. Beckoning with his hand, he smiled.

"Hey. C'mere, man," he said to him. Castiel obliged, walking up so that he was beside Dean, who patted him on the back. 

"Lisa, this is Cas. He's majoring in History and Religious Studies, wears a trench coat and enjoys using complicated words and re-watching 'Firefly'."

Lisa shifted her gaze to Cas and smiled at him. She smiled a lot, he noted. He wasn't really sure how to smile back. Should he put on a friendly smile? A guarded one? In the end, he just blinked at her, which seemed to dent her confidence, causing her smile to falter slightly.

"Hi, Cas. I'm Lisa. I'm not the owner of this place, though I might as well be, seen as the actual owner NEVER DOES ANYTHING!" She raised her voice at the last words and directed them towards the closed door at the far end of the store.

"I RUN THINGS JUST FINE!" came the reply from behind the door.

Lisa tutted and flipped the door off, even though the person behind it couldn't see the raised middle finger. 

"That's Ash," she explained to Cas. "He's supposed to run the store, except he spends all his time either at the Roadhouse or doing geeky technical stuff on his computer."

"Sometimes when he's at the Roadhouse he gets into long conversations about hacking and computers with Charlie," Dean said to him. "Actually, I'm surprised you haven't met him yet."

"You'd better hope you don't ever meet him," Lisa said.

"I CAN HEAR EVERYTHING YOU'RE SAYING!" Ash yelled to them.

"GO BACK TO YOUR NERD GAMES!" Lisa bellowed.

"I'M NOT PLAYING GAMES, I'M DOING ESPECIALLY COMPLICATED COMPUTER PROGRAMMING!"

"IS THAT WHAT THEY CALL WATCHING PORN THESE DAYS?" Dean shouted, joining in.

Castiel watched the exchange, vaguely puzzled. He was always puzzled when he saw things like this happen, especially recently, since he'd been observing Dean and his friends. It was how they acted together. Familiar. Teasing. Light insults. He'd never seen that before. Sure, his two older brothers where mischievous jokers, but his family, when together, had never been like that. There had always been some measure of distance between Chuck and his children.

The sound of a phone ringing jerked him out of his reverie. As the ringtone carried on, he thought it sounded familiar. He realised it was his phone. Digging in this pocket, he retrieved the phone and checked the screen, which read 'Gabriel'. He laughed to himself. Just when he'd been thinking about his family, his brother had decided to call.

He gestured to the others that he was stepping outside, then pushed the door open again and pressed the 'Answer' option.

"Hello, Gabriel," he said, ignoring the biting wind that nipped at his cheeks.

"Hey, there, little bro," Gabriel greeted him, same as he always did.

"How are you?"

"I'm great. I decided to finally call you, seen as you never bother to pick up your cell and call me for a change."

Castiel sighed. "Sorry. I wasn't aware I was supposed to."

"Yeah, kid, it's called communication. Something you might want to work on."

"What's got you in a bad mood?" Cas asked.

"Ugh, sorry. Just some little bastard thought it was funny to buy a water gun from the joke shop and start spraying me. I'm soaking, and it's fifteen minutes before my date," Gabriel explained.

"Date? With whom?" Cas questioned, interested.

"Never you mind, nosy. That's not what I called to talk about."

"What did you want to talk about, then?"

There was silence on the other end. Castiel got the feeling that Gabriel was apprehensive about something.

"Gabriel?" he pressed.

"Okay, fine, I'm just gonna come out and say it," his brother babbled. "It's Thanksgiving in three weeks and Dad wants you to come over for it."

The world came to a crashing halt. Cas gripped his phone, worried he was going to drop it if he didn't hold onto it tightly. 

"Cassie? You still there?" Gabriel asked, sounding worried.

"Yes. Yes, I'm still here."

"And will you come?"

"No," Cas replied immediately, without hesitation. He heard Gabriel sigh.

"Look, this isn't just about Dad, or Hester. We all want to see you. Lucifer told me you still haven't called him and Samandriel won't shut up about how he misses you."

"But, Gabriel, you remember what happened last time I was in that house-"

"Yes, and, in case you've forgotten, Dad and Hester were actually outnumbered. We were on your side," Gabriel protested.

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you think I'm being selfish-"

"You are. You've straight-up ignored your family for two months. Dad gets it, okay? You've made your point. He knows what he and Hester did was wrong, and he just wants to apologise, but you won't give him the chance. We miss you, all right? We just want to see you."

"I just...I don't-"

"Just think about it, okay?" Gabriel interrupted.

Cas's shoulders slumped defeatedly. "All right. I'll think about it."

"Good. I just can't bear it, you know? I want our family to be whole again."

"I know you do," Castiel replied, then took the phone away from his ear and ended the call without giving his brother a chance to answer. Gabriel's wishful thinking made him so sad. He understood why his brother had those hopes, why he held on to the idea of healing their family. It was a naive wish, though. Their mother had escaped off to Italy years ago, and in Castiel's mind, it had been sensible to get out while she still could. Her marriage with Chuck was falling apart at the seams. Since their divorce, it had been more peaceful, but something was missing. The family had been on its way to a train wreck for a long, long time, and Cas was beginning to see the aftermath.

Maybe it was because Chuck was a writer who shut himself off from his kids. Maybe it was because Rachel was a reckless idealist who could never had stayed in one place and raised a family. Maybe it was because Lucifer was a pot-smoking waster. Maybe it was because Anna was an anxious OCD-sufferer who set the rest of the family on edge every day. Maybe it was because Castiel was an antisocial weirdo who had never quite been able to grasp reality. Maybe it was all these reasons put together.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he remembered the last night he'd spent at his house.

 

~_~

 

30th August, two months ago:

 

The atmosphere around the dinner table was palpably tense. Beside Castiel, Lucifer dug his fork into the table, seething and glaring at Hester, who was seated across the table next to their father. She laid her hand on Chuck's arm, pressing herself into him. Chuck smiled quickly and nervously at her, hands trembling. His gaze flitted up to Castiel, then immediately flitted away, unable to meet his eyes. On Castiel's other side, Gabriel snorted into his food. He, apparently, found the whole thing quite hilarious. At the head of the table, Samandriel quietly hummed 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'.

Anna had left for college two days previous, which was both a relief and an inconvenience. One one hand, she was no longer anxiously sorting through her things fifty times over, convinced she had forgotten something. One the other hand, there was one less person at home who was ready to defend Castiel to Chuck and his new girlfriend. 

The tension in the house had first made an appearance three months ago when Chuck had first brought Hester home and she'd almost immediately moved in. It had surprised them all. Their father never dated, never even looked at another woman, not since Rachel and the divorce. Despite their constant heated arguments and all the smashed plates and slammed doors, Chuck had really loved his wife. When she'd first left, when Castiel was barely eleven, Chuck had become an utter mess, barely holding it together. They'd all thought he'd never let another woman into his life. 

But, here was Hester, and she was practically Rachel's polar opposite. Rachel had been an artist, with long blonde hair, pouty lips and huge blue eyes. She'd leave a trail of paintings, drawings, magazines and glittery hair clips around the house, always singing along to The Smiths or Nirvana. She'd tell the children wacky stories about dragons and handsome princes and spirits in the wind. In contrast, Hester, although also blonde, had her hair cropped short, sometimes wore it up in a severe bun. She usually wore a pressed suit, black shoes, and always had a crucifix dangling on a silver chain around her neck. Instead of telling stories, she insisted that they all read the bible and get back into the habit of going to church. One time, when she caught Lucifer rolling a joint in his bedroom, she threw the joint out of the window and fell to her knees, reciting the Ten Commandments. Needless to say, Lucifer had not been impressed.

However, it had become worse when, exactly a week ago, Michael, a boy who had graduated high school alongside Castiel, turned up at the door at three in the morning, completely wasted. Castiel had answered the door, and Michael had burst into a drunken, slurring tirade about how he thought Castiel was 'really, insanely hot' and leaned in to kiss him. Caught off guard, Castiel had returned the kiss, because, well, Michael WAS pretty hot and he used to ask him for answers in math class, which had been kind of cute. 

The kiss had lengthened up to the point where Michael was feeling for the elastic of Castiel's sweatpants, until they heard a soft clearing of a throat behind them. Very slowly, he had turned around to discover his brothers and Chuck and Hester gaping at him from the top of the stairs.

So, it was safe to say that everybody was feeling a little tense. 

Now, at the dinner table, Hester neatly laid down her fork and folded her hands together, resting her chin on them. Everybody stared at her, bewildered.

"What?" Lucifer demanded, still glaring. 

Hester smiled primly, ignoring Lucifer's hostility. She looked directly at Castiel. "Well, boy. I assume you know what we're about to talk to you about?"

He chose to stay silent.

"One week ago," Hester continued. "We found you doing something rather unholy. You were engaging in a...romantic exercise with another boy of your age."

"Are you for real?" Gabriel asked her.

"Do you know what this means?" Hester questioned Castiel.

"That I have sexual urges, much like any person my age?" Castiel replied, already putting his defences up.

"It means that you went against God's will. Man shall not lie with man. You remember that?"

"I remember the bible stating that, yes." Castiel kept his voice cold.

Hester shook her head, her eyes big with false sympathy. "This isn't your fault. You've been tempted down the path of sin. It is my job to bring you back."

"This is bullshit," Lucifer exploded. "If Castiel wants to kiss boys, he can. If he wants to have sex with boys, that's no problem either. So stop with the righteousness." He looked at Chuck. "Dad, tell her."

Chuck widened his eyes with panic. He fiddled with his thumbs, looking away from Lucifer. 

"Dad?" Gabriel asked, his tone serious now.

"Chuckie, tell your boy here that what he is doing is wrong," Hester said, her voice low. 

"Dad, please," Castiel implored.

Chuck looked up at his son, eyes full of defeat. "Castiel...you need to stop. W-what...what you've been doing and feeling...it's-it's wrong. You're not supposed to feel this way towards men. It's...twisted." 

"What the fuck?" Lucifer leapt out of his seat, towering over the table, causing Samandriel to burst into tears. "What the actual fuck, Dad?"

"I'm sorry son," their father said, looking down. "Castiel is doing something that goes against nature. I...we can't have it."

"Dad, stop it," Gabriel said. "Hester's gotten into you."

"I haven't 'gotten into him'." Hester snapped. "He is trying to help his son away from the evil temptations he is experiencing."

"Shut up, you miserable old bitch," Lucifer growled. "You have no right. No right to waltz in here and try to tear our family apart. We've already been through enough without you. So, take your 'help' and your angelic holiness, and shove it up your tight ass."

"Lucifer!" Chuck scolded. "Don't you dare speak to her that way."

"I'll speak to her any way I like," Lucifer replied viciously.

"Everybody be quiet!" Castiel finally shouted. He stared at his father. "I can't change who I am. Don't you see that?"

Chuck rubbed a hand over his face and looked sorrowfully at him. "You've always been a good son, Castiel. Rarely getting in trouble. But...ever since you were born, you were a little...too different. You went into your first day of kindergarten wearing a skirt, and when you came home to tell us that the other children had made fun of you, you didn't even shed a tear. You didn't seem to care. On your ninth birthday, you buried the birthday cake in the ground instead of eating it. When you were fourteen, you still had imaginary friends. The only proper friend you've ever had is that Balthazar boy, and I'm starting to worry that maybe that wasn't just a friendship."

Castiel felt tears well up in his eyes, and he blinked them away furiously. "Sorry I've been such a disappointment to you. You know, it must have been so hard for you to not have a normal son. I feel so bad for you." He stood up, walking over to the doorway. "Have you taken a look at yourself? You're so pathetic, and you call me the disappointment. Is it any wonder why I shut myself off from others? Who do you think I learned it from? I know what this is about. It isn't about me. You just can't handle the fact that Mom left you and escaped to Venice with a woman. So you direct your anger at all homosexuals. Do you really think that Mom would have stayed with you? She can't stay anywhere. You'd never be enough for her. You're just a washed-up author who writes terrible books, spending half your life pining after your ex-wife who was so repulsed by you that she became a lesbian."

Dead silence fell upon them. Samandriel had stopped crying and was covering his face with his hands, and Gabriel and Lucifer were so stunned that they had frozen. Chuck just sat there, staring at nothing, swallowing silently.

Then, slowly, Hester pushed herself out of her seat and made her way over to Castiel. She was a couple of inches shorter than him, but she was still able to look directly into his eyes, measured and calculating. After several seconds, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face. He turned his head back to face her, refusing to touch his stinging cheek, and she slapped him again. 

"How dare you." Her voice trembled with fury. "Don't you ever speak to your father like that again. You are an unholy, insolent and arrogant young boy. If you're not careful, you will burn in Hell."

"Burning in Hell would be better than living another night in this house. At least Satan isn't a close-minded, righteous, oppressive bitch who destroys families." Castiel was slightly shocked at the words that were coming out of his mouth, but he didn't take them back.

"That's enough," Chuck stood too, resting his hands on the table to disguise their shaking. "Castiel, don't talk to Hester that way. You are leaving for college in the morning. I... I want you gone by six am, unless you want to apologise and promise to change your ways."

"Dad, don't do this. Cassie hasn't done anything wrong," Gabriel begged.

"Don't bother," Castiel snapped. "I'm leaving now. Don't expect me home for Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or summer or any Thanksgivings and Christmases and summers after that. In fact, this probably the last you'll ever see of me. Have a nice life, Father."

With that, he stormed out of kitchen and up the stairs. He picked up his bags from his bedroom and thundered back down the stairs, heaving them over his shoulders. Before he was able to step out of the door, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder. He had left the kitchen, managing to catch his brother before he left.

"Stay in touch," he said, his voice sad. "With me and Gabriel, I mean. You will, won't you?"

Castiel sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Of course I will."

"Say hi to Anna for me."

"I will," Castiel turned to go, but Lucifer caught his arm one last time. 

"Buddy, listen. I'm sorry." His eyes bored into Castiel's.

"Why should you be? It isn't your fault."

"You know what I mean. I could... I could talk to Dad, you know."

"It doesn't matter," Castiel insisted. "What's done is done. I'm a legal adult now. I don't need him."

Lucifer looked reluctant. "Well...all right. But you will stay in touch, won't you?"

"Yes."

"All right."

"I'd better go," Castiel said. In truth, he was desperate to leave. To get out of there.

"I'll... I'll see you around, little brother." Lucifer patted him on the shoulder.

"Goodbye."

Without another word, Castiel turned around and left the house that had been his home for eighteen years, shutting the door behind him.

He stayed in a motel overnight, then, the next day, headed out to the university, not looking back as he left behind the small town. It had been all he'd ever known.

 

~_~

 

As Cas stood on the sidewalk, his conversation with Gabriel still buzzing in his mind, he heard the bell of the record store tinkle behind him. He didn't say a word as Dean stepped up next to him.

"That looked like a pretty heated phone call," he commented.

"My father wants me to come home for Thanksgiving," Cas said, discovering that his voice was empty.

"Right... The father that you hate?"

"I do only have one father, Dean."

"Yeah. Right." Dean looked at him sideways. "That sucks. Do you want to go?"

"Not particularly. But my brother is desperate to fix our unfixable family." He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm complaining."

"Don't apologise. It's good to talk about the shit stuff. Takes off the load, or something like that."

"I told my father that I would never come back. So, if I do return, it's like he's won, isn't it?" Castiel stared at Dean, desperate for his answer. It was stupid. It wasn't like Dean would magically have the solution to his problem.

Dean clicked his fingers. "Honestly, I haven't the foggiest idea how to help you in the long term, but I do know what'll help right now."

He took Cas's arm and lead him back inside. Grabbing a record off the shelf, he headed over to Lisa and bought it. Making his way back to Castiel he held it up and waved it around.

"See this here? This is 'Enter Sandman' by Metallica. We're all gonna head over to the Roadhouse, persuade Ellen to play this song, and then we're gonna get drunk. Sound like a plan?"

"But-"

"No buts. You have three weeks to figure out what to do. Right now, we are going to do shots while listening to an awesome song. Guys!" The others looked up, questioning. "We're going to the Roadhouse. C'mon."

They all said their goodbyes to Lisa and headed down a few blocks until they arrived the Roadhouse. 

"Why are we doing this again?" Meg asked.

"Because Cas needs to do some forgetting," Dean replied, before pushing the doors open.

Ellen looked up when they entered. "Well, look what we have here. Joanna Beth, you come to visit your old mom?"

Jo walked forward grabbing some guy's beer and drinking it, much to his protest. "Mom, I told you before. Don't call me that. And we're here on Cas's benefit."

Ellen turned to Cas and smiled warmly. "What's the problem, kid?"

"Cas has had a spot of bad news," Dean explained. "So we need to get him drunk while listening to this here record." He held up the Metallica record, smirking.

"Oh, no, you don't, sonny," Ellen said, shaking her head. "I've banned all your music from playing in my bar since that last incident."

"What last incident?" Castiel asked curiously.

"Doesn't matter," Dean said vaguely. "Come on, Ellen. Please? For Cas?"

Ellen held his gaze stoically for a good ten seconds, before sighing and flapping a hand at him. "Oh, all right. But only because Cas needs cheering up. Don't put it on too loud. Any complaints and it's going off. I'm already overlooking the fact that none of you are twenty-one. I don't need any more trouble."

"Mom, you're the best!" Jo cried, clapping her hands together.

"Yeah, yeah," Ellen grumbled, moving off to serve somebody. "Off you go. You know where the tequila is."

It turned out that it took six replays of the song for them to start getting properly drunk. Cas had to admit, it was quite a good song. That was surprising, seen as he'd always hated Dean's taste in music. Soon enough, they were falling against each other and laughing, singing out-of-tune to the song.

Castiel wasn't going to admit it, but he wasn't actually as drunk as they were. He had slyly tipped several of his drinks into nearby pot plants. He didn't know why. Perhaps it was because he remembered what had happened the last time he was drunk.  
Garth was in the middle of telling an elaborate story about how he had beaten up three Philosophy majors.

"...and then the last one said; 'You say you want to fight me, but we should ask ourselves, what is fighting? Why is it that we feel the need to inflict such harm on others? Is it survival? Or is it something more essential, more spiritual?' At that point, I punched him in the face and he went flying across the table. It was hilarious, man. And, the best part is, they all refused to punch me back cos they claimed to be pacifists."

Jo, Meg, Charlie and Dean fell about laughing, sloshing their drinks on the floor. Castiel lay his own drink down, and before he knew it, he was walking outside. It was night-time by now, and lights dotted the buildings and street lamps. He looked up to the sky at the clouds. Although it was dark, he could just make them out, fluffy and unmoving. 

Suddenly, they weren't moving anymore. The clouds were all swirling in and around each other, faster and faster, and then they were coming down to the ground, twisting and turning, about to flatten him. His heart sped up, thudding and beating as his hands began to tremble-

Then he squeezed his eyes shut. He took in long, terrified breaths until his heart stopped racing and returned to its normal pace. Cautiously, he opened one eye, then the other, and looked up at the the sky. The clouds were still, no sign or flicker of movement. Castiel rubbed the back of his neck, gulping.

"Did you see something? Y'look terrified," Dean's slur came from behind. Castiel whipped around to find him leaning against the wall, his drink gone from his hand.

"N-no. I didn't see anything."

Dean arched an eyebrow and pushed off the wall, walking slightly unsteadily over to him. In the darkness, his green eyes gleamed as the light caught them. His pupils were slightly dilated, but that could just be the alcohol.

Cas found himself noticing Dean's long lashes, and the curve of his mouth. His gaze dropped to Dean's lips. Dean took another step towards him, his eyes dropping to Cas's own mouth, and Cas watched as he subconsciously bit his lower lip.

Forgetting what he had told himself, Cas grabbed hold of Dean's shoulders and closed the distance between them, bringing their mouths crashing together. Dean made a sound in the back of his throat and hurried to take control of the kiss, slowing it down. Closing his eyes, Cas lost himself in Dean's taste. He felt his problems slip out of his mind, replaced by the euphoria that came with kissing the other boy. This was good. This helped him forget.

Some voice in the back of his mind told him it was unhealthy to use Dean like this, but he ignored it as Dean's tongue slipped into his mouth while his teeth bit down on his lip. Now he knew. He knew what Dean had meant about forgetting. It was bliss.


	8. Don't touch me please, I cannot stand the way you tease...

All around Castiel, people chattered noisily. As he sat down in his seat in the Religious Studies lecture hall, he rubbed his temples. He was developing a blinding headache, and the noise definitely didn't help. His folder slipped out of his hand when he pulled it out of his bag, and he tiredly reached down to pick it up.

"Mornin', class," Professor Mills, the Religious Studies professor, said as she strolled in. She smiled pleasantly at them, shrugging off her coat and undoing her scarf. Cas watched her thoughtfully. From what she'd told them in previous weeks, he'd gathered that she used to be the sheriff of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, until her husband died and her son had run away. She'd left, too consumed by sad memories to stay. Determined to move on with her life, she'd gone back to university and become a Religious Studies professor. Oftentimes, she reminded him that even the kindest, warmest people can be plagued by demons and a haunted past.

"All righty," she said, turning back to the class and sitting on the edge of her desk. "We're close to the end of the semester, but we have one more topic to cover. Last week, we completed the topic of comparing different religions and religious beliefs. Today, we're going to continue with the idea of comparing, but instead we'll be looking at the concept of beliefs and how they compare to our own beliefs. Not every person in this room is part of a religion, but we all have our own personal and moral beliefs. And those beliefs may conflict among us. For instance, some of us may believe that women should not be able to get abortions, as it is their view that it is akin to murder or against their religious values. However, others of us may believe that it is the woman's choice what to do with her body. After all, the foetus hasn't even developed a brain or a proper body at the time that most abortions occur. That means that some people may argue that it's not like the foetus even exists in a human sense when it is aborted."

There was a ruffle of discussion throughout the room. Cas noticed Naomi, a particularly devout Catholic, bristling at Professor Mills' words. He saw her face turn a bright shade of maroon and he snickered, quickly turning it into a cough. 

"Anyway," Professor Mills continued. "Today we will be participating in a debate involving the statement in the Christian bible that claims God is forgiving and all-loving. Now, in theory, that is a very beautiful concept. The idea of a being that unconditionally loves you is an enticing prospect. However, when we delve closer, it becomes more complicated. Can anybody tell me why?"

A hand shot up, and Cas discovered that it was a kid named Kevin Tran, whom he had seen around campus several times outside the class.

"Yes, Kevin?" Professor Mills asked.

"Well, there are many complications. The first one is that the bible sort of contradicts itself, right? I mean, it's all very well and good saying that God is forgiving, but there are several instances in the bible where He unleashes His wrath upon people. I get that He has to punish the evil, but should punishment even come into the equation for a being that forgives us our sins regardless?" Kevin stopped speaking, seemingly out of breath. He hadn't paused once in his speech, and Cas was amazed that somebody could talk so fast.

Professor Mills nodded. "The age-old question, Kevin. For decades - maybe even centuries - that idea has been argued over and debated countless times." She broke off, thinking. "All right, let's forget about God for a moment. We, as humans, understand how easy it is to preach forgiveness, but how hard it is to put it into practice. If somebody has wronged you terribly, you have to be a pretty incredible - and, dare I say, naive - person to forgive them just like that-" she clicked her fingers. "It takes time to be able to forgive somebody. But, after a certain amount of time, we must consider that the hesitance to forgive can turn into a grudge. I'm not saying that everybody should forgive everybody for everything. If somebody, say, attempted to murder you, you'd probably have quite a difficult time ever forgiving them. But we shouldn't spend our entire lives holding grudges against every person that wronged us in some way. Sometimes, we have to meet each other halfway."

She continued the lecture, but Castiel wasn't able to follow. His mind was still frozen on what she'd just said. Was it possible? Had his initial anger at his father turned into a grudge? Sure, he'd told him that he would never come back home, but had he really meant it? He checked himself. Yes, he was still incredibly hurt and angry at Chuck for the things that he'd said.

Or had he piled too much of his fury on his father? After all, it was Hester who had done most of the damage, yet he'd hardly spared her a second thought. Now that he really considered it, he realised that it had actually been Hester who had worked her doubts and beliefs into Chuck's mind. Castiel's father had always been susceptible, especially to people he had an emotional connection to. He was easily manipulated. In the past, Lucifer had often used it to his advantage, and Rachel had as well, before she'd left.

He couldn't stay mad at Chuck forever, but was he able to forgive him yet?

 

~_~

 

"Come on, Cassie, it'll be fuuuun!"

Cas sighed and sat back against the wall of his bed, watching Balthazar who was sprawled on his couch. He twisted the bedcover under his hand.

"I don't know. I've never been to a house party before," he said reluctantly. Balthazar raised his head and glared at him.  
"I literally just told you that it's not a party. It's just a group of people getting together for some drinks and some fooling around, and it happens to be in Crowley's house."

"I won't know anybody there, though," Cas tried not to let a whine creep into his words.

Balthazar elevated his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head. "Fine. You can bring your boyfriend and his friends. Happy?"  
Cas frowned. "He's not - he's not my boyfriend, Balthazar."

Balthazar narrowed his eyes and balled his fists into the couch. "Could have fooled me. You know, ever since you started hanging out with those people, you practically forgot I existed. We haven't spoken properly for weeks."

"Don't be so dramatic," Cas snapped. "I came over to your dorm two days ago."

"Not for very long," Balthazar replied, sulkily jutting out his bottom lip.

"We talked for hours!" Castiel threw up his hands. "If you have a problem with me having friends-"

"I don't have a problem with you having friends! I just want you to acknowledge your original one every once in a while."

"Are you being purposely obtuse?" Cas asked him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just because my world doesn't need you to spin on its axis anymore doesn't mean you're not still my friend."

"I'm not-" Balthazar stopped and huffed. "Look, just come to Crowley's tonight? Bring Dean and those other ones if you really want."

Cas squinted at him. "What's made you resent Dean so much all of a sudden? I thought you worshipped the ground at his feet."

Balthazar scowled. "I never 'worshipped the ground at his feet'. I just thought he'd be able to get me into the party scene. Now I've realised I don't need him for that."

"What's made you change your mind?" 

"Will you stop trying to pick a fucking fight already?" he exploded. "I've just invited you to come hang out with me. Lower your hackles for once in your life and just cooperate like a normal person."

Cas pushed himself up and headed to the door. "Okay, I'll come over tonight. Happy?"

"Not really." Balthazar stood and followed him. "Castiel, I hate it when we fight."

"Didn't really think this through, then, did you?" Cas didn't know why he was so irritable, but his friend wasn't exactly helping.

"I'm just trying to reconnect with the guy I've known for four years! It's incredibly hard when all you do is try do deflect any of my efforts."

A disbelieving laugh escaped Cas' lips. "This is unbelievable. You're not trying to reconnect with me, you're trying to make me feel guilty for not spending all my time with you."

"No, I am not! All I'm saying I would appreciate it if you remembered the fact that you-" Balthazar halted immediately in his vent when Cas opened the door and the two of them came face-to-face with Dean, who was wearing a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the three of them, until Dean opened his mouth.

"Well,' he said, glancing back and forth. "This is uncomfortable."

"Did you hear all that?" Castiel asked, hoping to God that he hadn't.

Dean scratched his ear. "Nah. Just the, uh....the bit about you deflecting his efforts about something and him making you feel guilty blah blah blah and then the bit just before you opened the door about him appreciating something. So, no harm done, hey?"

Cas watched Dean grinning sheepishly for a moment longer, before glancing at Balthazar and finding him glowering at Dean. Repressing the urge to lay into him again, he turned to Dean determinedly.

"Balthazar has invited me to hang out at Crowley's house tonight and he very kindly suggested that you, Jo, Charlie, Garth and Meg come along as well. What do you say?"

He looked back behind him at Balthazar, feeling a sense of triumph in his chest when he saw that the other boy was practically fuming. Knowing it was horrible, he smiled anyway, satisfied that he'd made his point.

"That sounds good!" Dean exclaimed enthusiastically. Castiel felt a slight feeling of puzzlement rise in him when he noticed that Dean looked practically ecstatic.

"I didn't know it was that exciting," he said, bewildered.

"Oh, no, man." Dean smirked, his mouth twisting upwards crookedly. "It's just amusing that you're finally inviting me someplace instead of the other way round."

"Oh," Cas replied stupidly.

"I have to go," Balthazar announced abruptly. "Be at Crowley's at nine." He cast one last glare at them and turned on his heel to stalk down the hall and disappeared through the door to the stairwell.

Next to Cas, Dean fell back against the wall, looking at the still-swinging door that Balthazar had disappeared down.

"The fuck is his problem?" 

Castiel heaved a sigh. "He's being possessive. Don't worry, he'll be over it by tonight. "

"Why do I get the feeling he doesn't like me very much?" 

"Maybe because he doesn't," Cas answered tiredly, forgetting to place the filter in his mouth that usually stopped him from saying things like that.

Dean pouted. "How come? Everybody likes me!"

"I'm glad you're so secure in yourself," Cas said, suppressing a laugh.

Dean grinned, but it slowly slipped off his face. He peered at Cas with something similar to concern. When the look didn't leave his face, Cas felt his self-consciousness blossom until he couldn't bear it anymore.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Have you thought about Thanksgiving yet?"

Great. Not Dean as well. Cas shifted on his feet, eyes darting away and settling on the wall opposite them.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted. "I mean, my siblings have been trying to get me to forgive and forget without giving any thought to it, but I don't know if I can."

He heard Dean breathe out a huff of air next to him. "If you don't mind me saying - I mean, I don't know what your dad did exactly - but if you're not ready, then they shouldn't try and pressure you."

Cas hadn't known how much he needed to hear those words until that moment. He turned slowly to stare at Dean. 

"I - thank you for saying that." 

Dean seemed to be a little taken aback by his sincerity, because he nodded awkwardly and looked down at the floor, plunging his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. As Castiel studied him, his mind wandered to the two kisses they'd shared. He wasn't sure whether they were supposed to talk about it or not. He'd only ever kissed and had sex with one other person, a girl called April, and that was really only in order to confirm his suspicions about his sexuality. Did it count as losing your virginity if you didn't come? He'd tried to ask Gabriel about it once, but had chickened out at the last minute.

Dean, however, was a whole other matter. The problem was that Dean practically kissed everybody, so how was Cas to know that their kisses had been any different? And did he even want them to be any different? There was no denying that Dean was attractive, but it was never as simple as that.

There were also several other factors that made Castiel hesitant. He didn't exactly know what had happened to Dean in his past, but he was intelligent enough to guess that it couldn't be good. Dean seemed to spend more time drinking himself insane then going off to have sex with a stranger than even talking to people. In fact, thinking back on the past few weeks, he realised that Dean was probably hiding a world of hurt in that head of his. It made Cas want to run away as far as he could, and at the same time made him want to find out what had damaged him so badly.

Suddenly, he remembered that he still didn't know what Dean had come up here for.

"Did you need something?" he asked. Dean jolted, seemingly startled out of a daze. He frowned confusedly for a second, before blinking and shaking himself.

"Uh...no. No, it doesn't matter," he said, avoiding Cas's gaze and rubbing his lip. He stepped backwards, towards the door.  
"I'll see you tonight at Crowley's. What's the address?"

"Twenty-four, Ivory Street," Cas answered. He bit his lower lip. "Are you sure it doesn't matter?"

"Yeah, it's fine, honestly. See you later, Cas." Dean stepped away quickly and turned around, pushing the door open and almost falling through it. 

"Bye, Dean," Cas said quietly. But Dean was already gone.

 

~_~

 

Fifteen minutes before they were scheduled to go over to Crowley's, Castiel sat in Charlie's dorm, watching her play Guardians of Middle-earth on her game console. They were sharing a bowl of popcorn between themselves, which Charlie was eating the most of. He tapped his fingers on his stomach as she paused the game to take another huge handful and stuff it in her face. He looked sideways at her, raising his brows.

"I don't understand how you can fit all that in your mouth," he commented. She turned to him, chewing loudly. When she had swallowed, she grinned at him and tapped her nose.

"It's all about the practice, buddy. Fitting large amounts of food in your mouth is an art form. Continue to hang out with me, and you'll master it too, soon enough." She turned back to the TV screen, un-pausing the game and returning to relentlessly pressing the buttons on her controller. For a while, he sat in silence, watching her guide her character in its battle against three current enemies.

"So which one are you playing again?" he asked her, forgetting the strange name of the character she had told him she was playing.

"Radagast," she replied, not taking her eyes off what she was doing.

"And he's a wizard, right?"

"Yep."

"So who's the main wizard?"

Charlie barked a laugh. "You mean Gandalf?"

"Yeah, I think so."

She shook her head, smirking to herself. "You know, for all the movies and TV shows you watch, I can't believe you've never seen The Lord of the Rings. It's almost a crime."

He shrugged defensively. "I've never really been into the whole fantasy, wizards and elves and sorcery type thing. It's a little far-fetched."

"But - but you've read and watched all the Harry Potters!' Charlie sputtered, so distracted that she almost got killed in her game. "It makes no sense."

"Everybody's seen Harry Potter," Cas argued.

"Everybody's seen The Lord of the Rings!"

He sighed. "If I tell you I'll watch them with you, then will you get off my case?"

"Yes," she said, leaning back, finally satisfied. For the next few moments, she was quiet, apart from the occasional soft 'pew-pew's as she navigated her way through the game. Cas rested his elbows on his knees before glancing up to check the clock on the wall. It was almost nine.

"Should we be going now?" he asked her. She looked at the clock and paused the game, then stood up to stretch and yawn.

"Yeah, we probably should." She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling another yawn. "I gotta tell ya, I might just fall asleep before I even get home tonight. I was up till, like, three am last night hacking into Walker's computer settings."

He had to laugh at that. "And, why, may I ask?"

Charlie put on her best innocently wide-eyed expression. "Just because I was hacking into his computer doesn't mean it was for a malevolent reason!" When he gave her a bland look, she rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, I was importing porn onto all his files."

"Why on Earth would you do that?"

It was her turn to give him a bland look. "Why do you think? Because it's funny, duh. Imagine his face when he opens a file for his next History lecture and it's just full of videos from Busty Asian Beauties!"

"But he could be arrested for that!"

"Oh, relax, I was only joking," she said, leading him out of the door and down the hallway. "I was doing a Graphic Design assignment. No porn involved, I promise."

They headed quickly down the stairwell and out through the main doors. When they were outside, Cas rubbed his hands together in face of the sudden cold. Beside him, Charlie's teeth chattered and she huddled into his arm. He belatedly wished he had brought a coat. Oh well. It was too late now.

"Brr. It's getting real cold," Charlie remarked. "I wonder if we'll get snow this year."

Castiel thought about it. "In these parts? Probably, but I'm guessing it'll be pretty light."

"Yeah, I guess," she replied. Her tone held a hint of wistfulness. "I've never lived in places where we've had a whole lot of snow."

"Me neither."

The two of them began trudging across the darkened campus. Cas eyed the Art building as they passed it, idly wondering if any of Dean's works were in there. The likelihood was that there were, and for some strange reason he felt the compulsion to go in there and look at them. That was oddly stupid. For one, the building was locked at this time of night. Secondly, why in God's name did he felt he urge to go and admire Dean's artwork?

Before he knew it, they had left the campus gates. They turned left onto a block lined with large, grand houses with big, flowery front gardens. Cas had never been in this area before. He'd always turned right when he left campus, going in the direction of the town.

Charlie hung on to his arm, absentmindedly looking around at the houses. "You know, Jo has been going on and on about how awesome it is to have two gay friends now. She seemed to think that you'll be going on shopping trips with her and giving her fashion advice. I'd watch out if I were you." She looked at him, narrowing the corner of her eye. "Speaking of, how's the thing with Dean going?"

Cas pursed his lips together, biting his cheek awkwardly. He considered lying to her, decided it wasn't worth it. He could face her wrath.

"We, um... Well, we sort of maybe kissed again." He squeezed his eyes tight shut, wincing when she growled and slapped his arm.

"Cas, what were you thinking?" she screeched shrilly. He opened his eyes to discover her glaring at him, nostrils flaring. She looked rather like an angry pitbull.

"Why is it so important to you anyway?" he demanded. She emitted a long, deep breath and pinched her forehead with her finger and thumb.

"I just don't want to see either of you getting hurt."

"I'm a big boy, Charlie. I can take care of myself. So can Dean."

She lowered her hand from her face and stared at him with big, mournful eyes. He watched silently as she chewed on her lip, obviously deliberating telling him something.

"Look," she said finally. "If this carries on, it'll go one of two ways. Either he strings you along for another couple of weeks, then has sex with you and dumps your ass, leaving you with a broken heart. Or, he's gonna fall for you. And that's bad. I'm not saying you're a terrible person to fall in love with or anything, but I was there the last time Dean fell in love with someone. I watched him give his entire heart and soul to a person, and then I watched that same person hurt and mess him up horribly, then leave him in a pool of his own misery and self-disgust. You ever witness someone completely shatter themselves before your very eyes? It's not something you want to see."

Cas frowned at the floor. "So because that ended badly, you're willing to never let Dean love somebody again?"

"No, I'm not saying that. What I mean is, Dean is still extremely fresh from that. He's still raw, still hurting. The self-destructive behaviour you've been seeing? It only started in the summer, just after everything went down. I don't want you to think I'm assuming I know what Dean feels right now. He told me himself that he probably wouldn't be able to love again for quite a while. So. I just want you to know that. Before it's too late." Suddenly, her expression brightened and her mouth lifted into a smile. "Here it is. Number twenty-four."

Castiel twisted around on the street to look at the house on his left. Sure enough, there it was. It was huge and grand, just like the others, with stained glass windows and honeysuckle climbing up the front and sides. This was so not what he was expecting a college student's house to look like. This was the house of a very wealthy, very well-off person. He found himself wondering how someone so evidently rich as Crowley hadn't ended up going to Yale or Harvard. He certainly seemed to have the money for it.

Charlie began making her way up the path to the front door, and he hurried to catch up with her. She clearly wasn't as thrown by the house as he was. He stood a little ways behind her as she reached up to knock firmly on the door, tapping her feet excitedly. At first, there was no answer, so she knocked again. He heard muffled voices from inside the house, then footsteps heading towards them. 

The door opened a crack, and an unfamiliar guy stuck his head out to frown at them.

"Can I help you?" he asked frostily, raising his hand to take a drag from a cigarette.

"Uh, hi," Charlie said nervously. "Balthazar invited us?"

The guy immediately broke into a grin. He opened the door wider, beckoning them inside. "Well, why didn't ya just say? Come on in, kids, we're just getting started."

They murmured their thanks and moved past him, down the hall that led into a living room. People were sat around on couches, most of them with a cigarette between their fingers, causing the room to be half obscured in a cloud of smoke. Castiel suppressed a cough and moved further into the room, peering through the haze. He made out Jo and Meg sitting together on a couch by the window. Charlie called to them and rushed to where they were sitting, squeezing herself between them. Castiel fiddled with his hands and glanced around. He noticed Balthazar, but he was on a couch, absorbed in a conversation with the guy Cas recognised to be Crowley.

"Cas, hey!" The familiar voice came from the other end of the room, and Cas squinted through the smoke to find Dean and Garth waving at him, stood by the mantle piece. Sagging with relief, he walked over to them.

"Hello," he greeted them. Dean had one arm draped over the mantle piece and he was surveying Cas, a beer in his other hand. Garth was sipping what appeared to be vodka through a pink curly straw.

"Man,' he said around the straw. "I thought there'd be more chicks here."

Dean scoffed at him. "Yeah, Garth. Even if there were fifty chicks here, you wouldn't score any of them."

"Remind me why I hang out with you again?" Garth questioned.

"Because by hanging out with me, you're cool by association. Not that it helps you score chicks. I'm afraid, in that area, you're a lost cause."

Garth puffed out his chest indignantly. "I can score chicks any time I like."

"Keep telling yourself that, you tiny, tiny man."

"I'm not short. You're just weirdly tall."

"Believe what you want, if it makes you feel better about yourself."

"You're such an asshole."

"At least I'm not a short asshole."

Castiel left them to their bickering and went to sit down on an empty couch. By himself, he studied the scene around him. He'd never seen so many people smoking in one place. Wasn't it sure to be a fire hazard? What was he going to do if somebody offered him a cigarette? He wished someone had equipped him for things like this.

Before he could figure out what he'd do in that scenario, the weight in the couch dipped next to him. Turning to see who it was that had sat down beside him, he discovered that it was Meg.

Shit. Panicked, he looked around for an escape. Just as he'd half-risen out of his seated position, she grabbed onto his sleeve.

"Relax, unicorn," she said, easing him back down. "I'm not going to molest you."

He ground his teeth, not looking at her. Nonetheless, he swallowed and nodded uneasily.

"Actually," she continued, "I wanted to apologise."

What? "Apologise?" he asked, dumbfounded. He twisted his head to stare at her. Her mouth, decorated with its usual dark red lipstick, twitched in amusement.

"You know? The thing that people generally do when they feel sorry?"

"Sorry?"

"Yeah. I mean, I get that I've been kinda making you uncomfortable and stuff. But, in my defense, you never outright objected." She sighed. "But whatever. I felt like an ass, and I don't usually like feeling like an ass. But you're pretty goddamned hot. You've got the whole mussed sex hair deal going on, and those big blue eyes work a charm too. And you weren't spoken for. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to worry anymore. Jo told me about the whole gay thing."

Cas swallowed again. He knew that he owed her an apology too. "I'm sorry as well. For leading you on, I suppose. It wasn't fair."

She fell back and leaned her head on the back of the couch. "Well, what's done is done. Too late to change it now. But, you know what, unicorn? We can still start over."

"As long as you stop calling me unicorn."

"I'm not promising anything."

He smiled at her, but their conversation was interrupted by a commotion over on the other side of the room. Cas whipped back around to identify the source of the noise. Over by the couch that Charlie was still sat on, Jo was racing around it, an object clutched in her hands. She was cackling madly, and Dean was chasing after her, scowling.

"Just give it back, Jo!" he yelled desperately.

"No way!" she replied, still laughing.

Meg stood up, grabbing Cas by the arm and hauling him over to get a closer look. He realised that the object in Jo's hands was a book of some sort.

"Jo, I swear, if you don't give it back to me right now-"

"Why the hell did you bring this thing with you, anyway?" Jo said, holding it above her head. "It's not like you were gonna get much drawing done, were you?"

Oh. It was his sketchbook.

Dean made a desperate grab for it, but Jo yanked it away from him. "I don't know!" he answered frustratedly. "Just give it back, okay?"

"Say 'please'," she taunted, holding it behind her back.

Dean clenched his hands. "Jo, I don't have time for your stupid games."

"Then you're not getting it back. Plain and simple." Jo ran around the couch again, Dean following closely behind. She held the sketchbook right out to the side. Dean lunged forward, reaching out to get it, but he accidentally knocked it out of her grasp. It went flying through the air, then landed open, the pages facing down, and skidded across the floor. Then it stopped.

Right at Cas's feet.

The room was quiet as he reached down to pick it up. Turning it over in his hands, he found a rough pencil drawing of Charlie and Jo sat together, laughing about something. It was vaguely cartoonish, and it hadn't been coloured in, but he could see the affection in the drawing. Smiling, he reached out to hand it back to Dean, but as he shifted it, the page turned, almost of its own accord. Pausing, he looked down again.

This picture was different. It was brighter, more vivid, and it was in full color. It looked like it had taken hours, and a strange emotion almost shone from it. There was one, small other detail, though.

It was a picture of Cas.

It depicted him sat on a bench, wearing his trench coat. He was staring into the distance, a small, rather cynical smile playing on his lips. A book was half-open in his lap, but he wasn't paying attention to it.

And the eyes. They were a stormy, electric blue, and they seemed to mask a thousand different emotions. They almost penetrated through the page, even though they were focussed on a far away spot.

It was beautiful. Emotional and bright and somehow heartbreaking to look at. Was this really how Dean saw him?

Gulping, he slowly looked back up at Dean, who was staring at him, frozen to the spot, his jaw practically hitting the floor in horror. Wordlessly, Castiel held the book out to him and he took it, licking his lips and closing it carefully. Cas was suddenly aware that every person in the room was watching them. 

Over on a couch behind him, he heard Balthazar clear his throat. "Well," Balthazar said, his voice laden with smugness. "That is extremely awkward."

Oh yes indeed.


	9. I lost my way in your city lights...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for drug use in this chapter guys!

Two hours later, Cas was sprawled on a chair in Crowley's back garden. Around him, about four guys were rolling a joint amongst themselves. He ignored them, instead choosing to look up at the sky, which was twinkling with stars. It was a clear night. It was also close to freezing, so he shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

After Cas had given Dean his sketchbook back, Dean had turned to Jo and started yelling at her about punishing him for a mistake he made almost a month ago. In turn, Jo had yelled at him about not taking responsibility for anything he did. He'd then yelled that it was no reason to take his sketchbook, at which point she had grabbed her coat and stormed out of the house. Charlie had run after her, but had come back ten minutes later, disappointedly telling them that Jo had gone back to her dorm for the night. Dean had put his sketchbook away, purposely not looking at Cas.

The night had continued, but there was an increased tension in the atmosphere.

Presently, Cas was still looking up at the sky, and he didn't notice when Balthazar placed himself down beside him. 

"Boo," he murmured in Cas's ear, making him jump. He turned to scowl at him, bristling at the elated expression on his face.

"What's got you so happy?" he asked suspiciously. "Are you high or something?"

Balthazar half-smirked. "No, but I will be soon." He turned to the guy who was currently lighting the joint. "Hey, give it here," he demanded. The guy looked disgruntled, but still obeyed and handed it to him. When Balthazar raised the joint to his lips, the stench of dope filled Castiel's nose. Coughing, he tried to waft the smell away. Balthazar sniggered.

"You need to chill out," he commented.

The back door to Castiel's left opened, and Dean, Jo, Garth and Meg walked outside. When Meg saw the joint, she slapped Garth's arm.

"See. Told you I smelled pot," she said smugly. Garth stepped away from her, rubbing his arm reproachfully

Dean and Charlie lowered themselves into the chairs opposite Cas and Balthazar. Dean was still refusing to look at Castiel as he pulled grass blades out of the ground. Charlie eyed the guys around them. They were rolling another joint.

Balthazar tapped Cas's arm, and he dragged his eyes away from Dean. Balthazar had the joint held out to him, one eyebrow raised, urging him with his offer. Cas looked apprehensively down at the joint. He felt his toes curl.

"Want some?" Balthazar asked. Castiel blinked, unsure.

"Um..." He trailed off, still staring at the joint, his judgement clouding.

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Come on, Cassie. Don't be such a pussy."

He heard Charlie inhale sharply.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, Cas," Dean said quietly. Cas glanced at him. He was frowning at Balthazar, his brows knitted together. Balthazar turned to grimace at him.

"Cassie needs to learn to experiment," he said to him.

"Not if it makes him uncomfortable," Dean shot back.

"I don't think you know what's best for Castiel. You've barely known him for three months." Balthazar's left fist was clenched as he stared Dean down.

"Evidently you don't either," Dean replied evenly.

"What the hell-"

Cas growled in frustration. "Just give it to me, okay? I can make my own fucking decisions." He grabbed the joint out of Balthazar's hand and looked back up at Dean, who was watching him anxiously. Taking in a determined breath, he brought it up to his mouth. As he took a drag, he spluttered, hacking and almost gagging, squeezing his eyes shut. Balthazar roared a laugh. Cas glared and shoved the joint back into his hand.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked him. 

He felt his anger flare again. "I'm not a child, Dean."

However, his frustration faltered when he saw the hurt look flash across Dean's face. Dean rubbed his hands on his thighs before pushing himself off the ground and looking down at them all, his lips a thin line.

"I'm going inside. It's cold." With that, he headed over to the door and disappeared back in the house. Charlie turned to look pointedly at Cas, disapproval lining her forehead.

"Well done, Mr Tact," she said to him. She held her hand out to Balthazar. "Hey. Give it." Balthazar obliged and handed the joint to her, of which she took a long, slow inhale.

Now that the original unpleasantness of first smoking the joint had worn off, Cas noticed the relaxed feeling that was starting to settle on his chest. Seeing the small smile on his face, Balthazar - who was now in possession of the joint - offered it to him again. Cas pondered more seriously this time. In truth, the slight relaxation was good, and he wanted to feel it more strongly. So he took it from Balthazar's hand and inhaled from it again. He still coughed this time, but it was less forcibly. 

"That's the spirit," Balthazar congratulated. Cas grinned at him.

After the joint had gone around lots more times, Cas found himself slipping down further into his chair, smiling up at the stars. Unfortunately, he slipped a little too far and ended up sliding onto the floor. Balthazar and Charlie fell into pits of laughter. Trying and failing to glare at them both, Cas began giggling with them. Eventually, their laughter died down, and he sighed and spread himself on the grass on his back. He smiled dreamily. Blinking slowly, he wondered why people didn't get high more often. It was a very nice feeling. Like he was floating on a cloud.

"I have so much fucking work to do that I am never gonna get around to," Charlie mused. For some reason, they all found it hilariously funny and began giggling uncontrollably again.

"I'm so fucking broke I can hardly afford milk," Balthazar supplied, sending them all laughing even harder.

"I'll probably get a crappy, low-pay job when I leave college," Charlie replied. Once more, they all erupted into giggles.

"My father practically disowned me," Cas said, joining in. The three of them, again, laughed even more. Cas paused, shifting and feeling the bulge in his pocket that was his cell phone. "Actually, y'know what, speaking of that..." he trailed away in his speech, reaching into his pocket and producing his phone. He smiled widely at it. "M'gonna call my brother."

"You do that," Balthazar murmured, his eyes half closed. Charlie nodded in unfocused agreement.

Cas clumsily scrolled through his contacts, until he reached Gabriel's number. Pressing it, he held the phone to his ear and waited patiently as the ring tone burred. On the last ring, he heard the tone click. 

"Hello?" Gabriel's voice was low and hoarse with sleepiness. "Castiel? What time is it?"

"Uh...almost midnight?"

"Geez, man, I was asleep. What d'you want?"

"M'gonna come!" Cas announced brightly. "T'the Thanksgiving thing."

"Oh... Right." Gabriel paused. "Did you have to tell me this at almost midnight?"

Cas considered this. "Dunno," he concluded.

The line was silent for several seconds. "Are you high?" Gabriel questioned, suspicion clouding his voice.

"Um...maybe?"

"Jesus. Which idiot thought it was a good idea to give you drugs?"

"Balthazar?" Cas said uncertainly. Why did Gabriel sound so disapproving? It wasn't like Gabriel had never taken drugs before. Sometimes he would go down to the cemeteries with Lucifer and smoke pot with him and his buddies. Cas thought he would have been happy.

"Of course it would be him. Look, Cassie, I need to get to sleep. I've got to open up the shop at the crack of dawn. Call me in the morning when you're thinking straight, okay?" The line clicked again to signal that Gabriel had ended the call. Frowning, Cas pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Wassup?" Charlie asked him from her spot on the grass. Cas looked at her, blinking.

"Nothing. M'brother's being weird." He put his phone back in his pocket and turned back up to the sky. Why was he so fascinated by the stars? They winked and twinkled down at him, and, by compulsion, he winked back at them. Balthazar scoffed and snickered.

"What're you winking at the stars for?" he asked derisively.

"They're winking at me," Castiel explained. "It's polite to wink back."

"Don't be stupid," Balthazar replied. "Stars don't wink. They ain't human."

"Stop being rude to the stars. You're hurting their feelings," Cas said to him, determined to defend the stars.

"You're a weirdo," Balthazar concluded.

"You're a bigger weirdo. You talk funny."

"S'called a' English accent. Better than your accent."

Before Castiel could retort, somebody entered their huddle and sat down next to Charlie. Cas lifted his head to find that it was Dean. He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked down at Cas.

"You okay there?" he asked.

"M'good, Dean. You should wink at the stars, you know. They're winking at you, so you gotta wink back at them."

Dean looked sharply up at Balthazar, who was still sat on his chair. "How much pot has he smoked?" 

Balthazar shrugged. "Jus' as much as me and Charlie have. Y'know."

"But he's never had it before. He's not as used to it as you are," Dean said, his face hard. He moved closer to Cas, looking down at him and blocking his view of the winking stars. "God." He waved his hand in front of Cas's face. "God. He's shaking and sweating. I'm surprised he hasn't passed out." Glaring back up at Balthazar, he grabbed Cas's shoulder and lifted him into a sitting position. "I'm taking him home."

"Woah. I feel dizzy, Dean," Cas mumbled, clutching the front of Dean's shirt.

"I know, Cas. Don't worry, I'm getting you home." Dean was still glaring at Balthazar as he put an arm around Cas's shoulders and hauled him to his feet. "You're a fucking idiot. You don't give someone who's never had drugs before that much pot to smoke." He looked down at Charlie. "I'd have thought you would've known better as well."

"M'sorry, Dean," Charlie said mournfully, tears springing in her bloodshot eyes. Cas slipped sideways and Dean caught him, dragging him back to his side. 

"Hang in there, Cas. Come on." He lead Cas away from them and inside the house. Cas let him guide him around the clumps of people until they'd reached the front door.

"Dean, I feel a bit sick," Cas said worriedly.

"I know, man. Just try to hang on for me, all right? Can you do that?"

"I think so," Cas replied, nodding. He didn't want to let Dean down.

Dean opened the door and led Cas back outside and on to the pavement. Dazedly, Cas looked at the building across the street. They were very, very large.

"Those are big buildings, aren't they, Dean?" he remarked.

"Yes, they are, Cas," Dean replied. Pleased with himself, Cas smiled and let Dean steer him down the street. For a while, they were both silent as Dean guided Cas around blocks, heading towards the college. Cas felt his stomach rumble violently.

"I'm really hungry," Cas told him. 

Dean nodded. "That's normal," he said.

"No, but I'm really starving."

"I tell you what, I'll make you a sandwich when we get back to your dorm. That sound good?"

"Yeah!" Castiel answered enthusiastically. A sandwich sounded very delicious right now. He wanted a ham and lettuce sandwich. Or maybe ham and tomato. He told Dean this, and it made Dean laugh for some reason. Before either of them said anything else, they reached the college gates and entered the campus, walking past the buildings. When they passed the Art building, Cas was reminded of his earlier thought. Then, inevitably, he was reminded of Dean's sketchbook drawing.

"You're a really good artist, y'know, Dean," he told him. Dean immediately stiffened. Cas frowned. Wasn't that a compliment?

"I really don't want to talk about that when you're high," Dean said shortly. "In fact, it'd be even better if we just never mentioned that drawing again."

"But it was good!" Cas protested.

"Please stop talking." Dean led him towards the door of his dorm building. Cas hazily thought about how this almost mirrored the night that he'd found Dean in the park.

"You don't owe me any more," he declared. As Dean pushed him into the building, he frowned at him.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Y'know. You said you owed me f'r when I took you home from the park. Y'don't anymore, 'cause now you're taking me home when I'm high."

"Oh." Dean ushered him into the elevator. "Well, that's good, I suppose."

While they waited for the elevator to reach the right level, Cas watched Dean curiously. He noticed how Dean's hair was particularly spiky tonight. He decided to tell Dean so.

"Your hair is particularly spiky tonight."

Dean chuckled. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

Cas considered. "A good thing," he decided.

The elevator doors pinged and slid open, and Dean placed a hand on Cas's back, leading him out and into the hall. "I need your dorm key," Dean said to him. Cas obeyed, delving into his pocket and protruding his key. Dean took it from him and unlocked the door. He turned the handle and pushed the door open, and Cas entered his dorm. Collapsing down on his bed, he closed his eyes. He heard Dean kneel down next to him.

"What about your sandwich?" he asked softly.

"Too tired," Cas mumbled. He was already half-asleep, but he registered a hand gently card through his hair. He sighed, relaxing at the sensation.

"Night, Cas," he heard Dean whisper.

"Goodnight, Dean."

The last thing his ears picked up was footsteps walking away and the door closing before he drifted into a deep sleep.

 

~_~

 

Castiel was perched on his bed the next morning, staring down at his phone, which had been scrolled down to Gabriel's contact number. He chewed on his tongue. He didn't remember everything that had happened last night, but he did remember calling Gabriel. And he remembered telling him that he was going to come home for Thanksgiving. His thumb hovered over the number, paused in waiting.

Fuck it. He pressed 'call' and held the phone to his ear. Gabriel answered on the second ring tone.

"Castiel?" Cas cringed at the anxiety in that one word.

"Morning, Gabriel," he murmured, massaging his pounding temples.

"I'm guessing you've sobered up now."

"Yes," Cas said shortly.

Gabriel chuckled. "How was your first taste of smoking pot, then? You're growing up, Cassie. I still remember when you used to wet the bed-"

"Yes, thank you for that reminder, Gabriel. I didn't call to reminisce about my bed-wetting days." Cas took a deep breath. "I - um. I've decided about Thanksgiving."

He heard Gabriel gasp. "You have? 'Cause I wasn't sure when you rang last night. I mean, you were high and all-"

"I'll come, Gabriel." 

His brother was silent. Cas tapped his fingers on his thigh, waiting with slightly baited breath. He checked the digital clock on his nightstand. It was a Saturday, so he didn't have any classes.

"Cassie-" Gabriel whistled. "That's great! I was almost sure you were gonna say no, but this is awesome! You can come and see the joke shop, and you can talk to Dad and - oh, Luce is going to murder you, by the way, since you still haven't called him. In fact, a direct quote is; 'I'm going to fucking kill that jerk-ass little bitch the next time I see him'. So prepare for that."

Cas couldn't help but smile. His brother's enthusiasm had always been infectious, and he'd missed it. He remembered when he was six and every morning at five o' clock an eight-year-old Gabriel would come tumbling into his bedroom, insisting that he come out and jump on the trampoline with him. He'd never known anybody quite so full of energy as Gabriel.

"I'll be prepared," he said into the phone.

"Great! Listen, I gotta go, some hot mom just walked into the shop with her kid and she looks single."

"You had a date not that long ago!"

"Oh, yeah, that didn't work out. Anyway, I'm gonna go score a single mom's number. Talk you you later, bye!"

"But, Gabriel - Gabe-" the line abruptly went dead, cutting Castiel off. Rolling his eyes, he took his phone away from his ear and chucked it on his bed. He leaned forward on his knees and gave his room a once-over. It was in serious need of tidying. Suddenly, something on the floor caught his eye. Moving towards it, he found it was a picture of a boy in his mid-teens, with dark, wavy hair and a boyish face, standing in a field with a soccer kit on and grinning at the camera.. What on earth...? Frowning, he tilted his head, trying to figure out if he recognised the boy. No. He'd never seen him before in his life. So what was it doing here?

Ah. He clicked his fingers, although nobody could see him. It must have fallen out of Dean's pocket when he'd taken him home. Running a hand over his hair, he braced a hand on his knee and pushed himself up, grabbing his trench coat off its hook on the door. He placed the picture carefully in his pocket to make sure he didn't lose it, then put his keys in his other pocket. He switched his light of, eyes sweeping across the room one more time, before stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. He was going over to Dean's to give him the photograph back.

He decided to take the stairs, and hurried down them. On his way down, he passed a couple sitting on a step, kissing passionately. He sidestepped them as casually as he could. Finally, he reached the door that opened on to Dean's floor and he pushed it open, heading over to Dean's door. 

Wondering why his heart was all-of-a-sudden beating very fast, he knocked hesitantly on the door. Dean opened it almost immediately, blinking sleepily at him. He rubbed his eyes.

"Cas? What time is it?" he asked tiredly. 

"Well, the last time I checked, it was twenty to ten. Did you really only just wake up?" Cas laughed in astonishment.

"You didn't?" Dean opened the door further, and Cas registered that he was wearing sweatpants and no shirt on. Swallowing tightly, he tried hard not to look at Dean's stomach and instead focused on the fact that Dean had a small tattoo just above where his heart was. It was an outlined pentagram, done in black ink, encased in a circle with black-ink flames (or were they waves?) spreading outwards all around the circle. "What's up, then?" Dean asked, causing Cas to jerk his eyes up, embarrassed.

He cleared his throat. "Um, you left this in my dorm." Swallowing again, he took the photograph out of his pocket and held it out to him. Dean, his forehead creased, accepted the picture and looked down at it. His face cleared, and he left.

"Oh, yeah. That's Sam. You remember, my kid brother I told you about?" Cas nodded. Dean smiled sheepishly. "I...I kinda carry it around with me. You probably think I'm a dork now."

"No, I think it's nice," Cas insisted. Dean smirked doubtfully and stepped back.

"Come in for a second. I'm just gonna...you know, get a shirt on."

"Right." Cas stepped inside the room, and what he saw took him slightly aback. He'd only ever been in Dean's dorm once, when he'd taken him home, and it had been dark then, and he'd been distracted. Now that it was light, though, he was able to see the paintings that were literally everywhere. Hung on the walls, cluttered around the floor, even a few on the bed. "Did you do all these?"

Dean, in the process of rummaging for a shirt, looked up. "Uh, yeah, they're all mine."

Interested, Cas took them all in. Splashes of color completely surrounded him; it was almost overwhelming. Several paintings depicted the woman in the drawing that had fallen out of Dean's bag a few weeks ago - his mother. Another was a copy of the photo of his brother. A particular one hung on the far wall, and it showed Meg and Charlie sat on a bench, identical smiles on, sharing a pair of headphones between them. Just like Dean's previous artwork that he had seen, they all held a hint of fondness and affection. Other paintings didn't include people, but instead depicted shapes, silhouettes and shadows, or stars and blended colors.

They were all beautiful.

Dean, now wearing a fresh Motörhead t-shirt, lowered himself down to sit on the edge of his bed. Cas forced himself to look away from the paintings and fixed his gaze on Dean.

'Thank you. For taking me home last night."

Dean held up his hands. "Hey. Just returning the favour."

"Dean, I'm being serious."

"I know."

Cas held his eyes for a moment longer before turning back to study the paintings again. A certain one lay on its side behind several others, as if it had been stuffed behind them and then later fallen over. Cas turned his head to the side to look at it properly. The object of the painting was a man who looked a few years older than them, and he had strange, haunting gray eyes. His hair was light blonde, and styled professionally. He was looking directly at the observer, which made Cas shiver for some reason. The man was very attractive. A smirk quirked his lips, in a way that almost reminded Cas of Dean.

"Who is that?" he asked. He glanced at Dean and was startled to find that his face had become hard and closed-off.

"Nobody. He isn't anybody." Dean looked away from him, picking at the frayed edge of his mattress. 

"Oh." Somehow, Cas didn't quite believe that. An uncomfortable silenced stretched between the two of them. Cas considered leaving, but then Dean sighed and scratched the side of his face.

"His name is Alastair," he said, and his voice was so sad that Cas felt a pain in his chest.

He inferred between the lines. "You were...with him?"

Dean swallowed and looked down. "I was, yes. Not - not anymore though."

"Did you love him?"

The other boy let out a strangled laugh, his eyes popping. "Jesus, Cas. You really get to the heart, don't you?"

"Sorry."

Dean rubbed his thigh and stood up, shrugging on his jacket. "It's too fucking early for this emotional shit. Come on."

"Where are we going?" Cas questioned, following him out of the door.

"The record store. I want you to meet Ash."

 

~_~

 

Lisa looked up from behind the counter and smiled widely when Dean and Cas walked in. She was reading a different magazine to last time, but she flipped it aside and it landed on the counter before slipping to the floor.

"Hey, Dean! And it's Cas, right?" she leaned her hands on the counter, smiling at them both. When Cas nodded his affirmation, she squealed. "For once, I remembered! I'm so terrible with names."

Cas drank in the store again. It looked pretty much the same, except the shelves had now been rearranged so that they were in alphabetical order. This time, 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' by Metallica (which he only knew because Dean had made him listen to it) was playing on the overhead speakers. 

"Hey, Lisa," Dean said. "Listen, I wanna introduce Cas to Ash. Is that okay?"

Lisa's smile widened. "Yeah, that's fine! Just go on in." She gestured with her head to the door at the end of the store. Dean gave her a thumbs-up and directed Cas towards the door. When they got closer, Cas noticed that the words 'Dr Badass Is In' were scrawled across the door in messy lettering, and he arched an eyebrow at Dean, who smirked ruefully.

"He has an inflated sense of his own coolness," Dean explained, then knocked loudly on the door. "Dr Badass, open up! I want to introduce you to someone. And you'd better not be naked like the last time."

"You caught me at a bad time!" came the disgruntled voice from behind the door.

"Obviously a good time for your penis though, seen as you were naked."

"Yeah, yeah. You don't have to be such a jerk." The door abruptly swung open and a short man, stood in the entrance. Thankfully, he wasn't naked. He had the most peculiar haircut Cas had ever seen. It looked relatively normal at the top of his head, cropped and combed neatly, but then it grew out down his back, where it was a tangled mess. Ash seemed to be in his early-to-mid twenties. Chewing on gum, he leaned an arm against the doorframe and surveyed Cas.

"Whadda we have here, then? You brought fresh meat, I see," he drawled.

"Ash, this is Cas. Please don't scare him away," Dean said, grinning. Ash looked up at him innocently.

"As if I'd do such a thing! Dude's too pretty for his own good. Come in, then, fellas." He walked back into the room, scratching his stomach. As Cas stepped in, he tried hard not to wrinkle his nose. The room was an utter mess, and it gave off a pungent stink. Chip packets, candy wrappers, old tea mugs and half-eaten bagels were strewn everywhere, and in the midst of them was a desk with a laptop on top of it. A bong lay discreetly in the corner, reminding Cas of last night.

"Geez, man," Dean said, coughing. "Couldn't you at least open a window?"

"No!" Ash protested. "It takes away from the charm."

"What charm?" Dean asked.

Ash stretched his arms above his head. "You gonna continue insulting how I live or do you need something."

"Actually, I do need something." Dean sat himself down in the desk chair, tapping Ash's laptop. "It's Jo's birthday in December, and I need you to help me plan a surprise party."

Ash's face screwed up in confusion. "I thought Lisa said you guys weren't talking or something."

Dean stared at him like he was an idiot. "Duh. That's why I need you to help me plan the party. It needs to be so epically awesome that she forgets all about being mad at me."

Ash blinked at him for a second, before nodding thoughtfully. "All right, Winchester. I'll help you plan the best goddamned party this side of Kansas. We'll blow the girl's mind."

Oh no. A sinking feeling erupted in Cas's chest. If Dean of all people was planning a party, there was no doubt that it wouldn't end well.

Jo was sure in for a surprise.


	10. I just want you to know who I am...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, guys I am so, so sorry that I have been gone for so long! I've just had so many exams and coursework that I simply have not had time to do anything other than study. Hopefully the exams will be easing off now, which will give me more time to write! It is just honestly so sad, because I love this story so much and not being able to share it with you is one of the worst things I could think of.
> 
> Hope you guys don't hate me for being gone for so long!

Cas was somewhat relatively aware of two things; the first was his bottle slipping to the floor, although he couldn't hear the shatter over the music. The second was the fact that he probably shouldn't be drinking so much tonight, seen as he was supposed to leave at seven in the morning if he was to be able to make it to his father's house for Thanksgiving. Then, he realised that this was the reason he was getting drunk in the first place. He unsteadily plopped himself backwards into a leather seat and blinked at his surroundings. Jo and Meg were dancing around wildly on the dance floor, their movements so erratic that a large space had formed around them where people were too frightened to come any closer. Garth and Charlie were currently obscured from view, and Dean was undoubtedly getting off with somebody or other.

He lay back in his seat while the world spun rapidly. There was an almost infinite sadness on nights like this, when the only things separating him from drunken unconsciousness were the hectic movements around him and his own loud thoughts. It was a quite an oxymoron, to be blissful and unsettled at the same time. Regardless, that was what alcohol did to him. It was never really an issue until the mornings after.

A shift in the weight next to him caused him to frown and turn to find Dean easing himself down beside him, clutching a half-empty bottle. The other boy smiled, although his gaze was unfocused.

"You're goin' t' your dad's tomorrow, right?" he slurred, leaning forward to speak into Cas' ear.

"Yeah," Cas confirmed, frustrated that he had to think about it.

Dean didn't break eye-contact. "You gon' be okay?"

"Yes," Cas replied, before narrowing his eyes. "Are you?"

Dean laughed at that, throwing back his head. Cas liked it when he laughed like that. "Don't need a babysitter, Cas."

"Didn't mean that," Cas clarified. "You aren't gonna be alone?"

Dean's face softened, and he lost grip on his bottle, much like Cas had a few minutes earlier. "Nah. Goin' down to Lawrence t' visit Sammy. We migh' go and see Dad as well." He looked at Cas through his eyelashes. "Thanks for carin'. You're a good friend."

Perhaps it was the alcohol in Cas' system that made him speak his mind more, but nonetheless, he said; "If we're such good friends, we migh' wanna stop kissin' and stuff."

Dean nodded, looking apologetic. "Yeah. Sorry abou' that. No more kissin'. Just friends. Swear it."

Cas returned the nod and turned away, looking out at the dance floor. Sweaty couples were dancing close together, identical drunken smiles on their faces. They touched each other - faces, lips, legs, hips, almost every body part was connected. Completely soaked up in each other.

Cas turned back to Dean, about to say something, but found that Dean had already leaned into him, causing their foreheads and noses to bump and their lips to brush together. Cas jumped as if electrocuted.

"Hey!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"It was a' accident!" Dean mumbled, leaning away defensively. Cas sniffed and eyed him, before swiping a hand through his hair and attempting to stand up.

"Gotta get back anyway. Gotta leave in the morning," he explained.

Dean stood, following him. "But then I won' see you for four days!"

"Suppose you can manage that."

Dean frowned, but still let him go. "Promise you'll call when things get shitty though."

"I will!" Cas called over his shoulder, then began stumbling between dancers towards the exit. Honestly, it probably would have been easier to stick to the wall and go around the dancers, but he wasn't really thinking straight. 

Somehow, he managed to make it out of the club and back to the college campus without causing serious injury to himself. Once he reached inside the dorm building, however, he belatedly realised that he was supposed to make it up the stairs. 

Laughing to himself about the utter ridiculousness of it, he shuffled into the stairwell. He want sure how long exactly it took him to get to his floor, but he did manage it and also managed to dig in his pocket for his key.

When he was finally back in his dorm, he gratefully flopped down on the bed and let sleep take over.

 

~_~

 

Hangovers weren't enjoyable.

They were even less so when Cas' angry, impatient sister was pounding her fists on the door and screeching for him to wake up. He pondered just rolling over and waiting until she went the fuck away, but he wouldn't put it past Anna to break the door down, and he really didn't want to pay damage costs. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. The stink of tequila assaulted him, just at the moment when he realised he was still wearing the clothes he had last night.

"Castiel! Castiel, I swear to god, if you don't open this door right this minute, I will go and get a fucking hammer and smash my way into your goddamned dorm!" Anna's high-pitched squeals penetrated his throbbing temples, making him wince.  
"Okay, I'm coming! Calm down!" he croaked, standing up and shuffling over to the door. He opened the door to glower at Anna, who was heaving a large suitcase behind her and fuming. He was about to say something when she shoved past him and stalked into the room, where she began randomly yanking things out of drawers and throwing them into a bag.

"I suppose you just magically forgot that we were supposed to be leaving today," she said while she worked. "Or perhaps you decided to be coward and hoped I'd forget about you." She looked at him over her shoulder, having him a pointed look. "But that's just ridiculous."

Cas only just refrained from sighing. Of course, everything was his fault. "I just overslept, Anna."

"Oh, then I'm guessing you got piss-ass drunk with Dean Winchester last night and now have a raging hangover. Wouldn't be surprising since you reek of alcohol right now."

"Hey, that's not-" he was cut off by an aspirin pill flying at him. He caught it and glared reproachfully at his sister, but she just raised her eyebrows.

"Take it with some water. Then get dressed," she instructed, resuming frantically packing for him. "For God's sake, Castiel, our cab leaves in twenty minutes!"

He decided not to reward her with an answer and instead took the aspirin, picked up some clothes she had just thrown on the floor and made his way into the bathroom to change. Once he had and brushed his teeth, he re-entered the room to find that Anna had finished packing for him and was now in the middle of a phone call.

"...so I went up to his dorm and guess what? He hadn't even packed or anything... No, he's ready now, but I had to pack for him. Typical... Yeah, it's all right. The cab's outside now, I think... Okay, I'll see you in about two hours... Love you too, Gabe." She ended the call and shoved it back into her pocket. Cas crossed his arms as she turned to him, casting an analytical eye up and down him. She clucked her tongue and picked up her suitcase. "Well, you'll have to do as you are. Let's go."

When they had left the dorm, Cas turned to lock the door. "So, let me get this straight. Am I expected to apologise to Hester?"

He smiled smugly when he heard Anna's very audible sigh.

"All I'm asking for is for you to be civil to her. You only have to tolerate her for four days, and then you won't have to see her until Christmas."

They began heading down the stairs, stumbling slightly under the weight of their suitcases. Cas thought it best to stay silent and wait until Anna's bad mood dissipated. Neither of them said a word when they got outside. Anna spotted the cab waiting for them and waved at it, hurrying Cas along behind her. They both put their suitcases in the boot and climbed in; Cas looking out of the window while Anna gave the driver directions. He absently wished that he could have said a last goodbye to his friends that morning. Then he reminded himself that he'd only be gone for four days, and after all, he had their numbers and could call them any time he liked. 

As the driver rumbled the car to life and pulled out of the college gates, Cas felt his heart leap involuntarily. This was it. He was going to see his father again after the disastrous summer. He wondered whether this had been a terrible idea. From an objective point of view, it definitely was, and this thought made Cas consider jumping out of the cab and making a run for it. No doubt Anna would grab him by the scruff of his neck and forcibly drag him all the way home if she had to.

The long drive was relatively quiet. Anna and the driver made occasional polite conversation, but Cas remained silent - as he usually did. He'd recently discovered that he was only comfortable with talking voluntarily when he was with his new friends. And Balthazar, of course.

He entertained himself through most of the ride by counting how many times Anna pushed her hair behind her ears. He was surprised - he'd never noticed before how much she did it. It was probably a new habit.

After about an hour, Cas found his mind wandering to the subject of Dean, as it so often did recently. Dean was most likely either still asleep or on his way to visit his brother. Cas remembered Dean once telling him that Sam was still a teenager, and wondered who looked after the kid.

All to soon, the cab slowed to a stop. Cas looked out of the window and up at the familiar house that had been his childhood home. It hadn't changed at all in three months; overgrown bushes still lined the exterior of the front garden, while ivy still climbed up the walls. The painted steps leading up to the front door were as chipped as ever. On the surface, it looked like the kind of house that a perfect family lived in - complete with a mother and father, two children and a pet dog. And, perhaps, once upon a time, it had been that kind of house. When Lucifer and Gabriel were young, and Chuck and Rachel were still a happily married couple; blissfully in love.

A sharp rapping on the window shook Cas, and he blinked up to see Anna's impatient glare. Making what he hoped was an apologetic face, he opened the door and clambered out, accepting his suitcase from Anna. He clutched tightly on to it as he eyed the house nervously.

Anna must have sensed his anxiety, because she lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Cassie. Everybody's dying to see us," she said softly.

He nodded mutely and mustered up his resolve, hesitantly stepping towards the house. Anna quickly paid and thanked the driver, before hurrying up to slip her arm through his. He gave her a grateful smile.

"I'll be fine," he reassured her. The two of them headed up to the house and walked up the steps, where Anna rang the doorbell. They heard muffled yells, then hurried footsteps, until the door abruptly swung open. The freckled face of Cas' second-oldest brother grinned up at them. Gabriel, as short as ever, leaned against the doorframe and casually pulled out a candy bar.

"Well, hello there, strangers," he said, adopting a southern drawl.

"How are you this fine mornin'?" Anna replied, joining in on the game.

"I'm just dandy, lady. You see, I-" Gabriel was cut off by a larger essence shoving him aside and barrelling into Cas, proceeding to pummel him repeatedly.

"You...couldn't...fucking...call...once...could...you?" Lucifer growled, in between punches. He pulled back to flare his nostrils and scowl at Cas, breathing heavily. "Seriously? Not once?"

"In my defence, you didn't call either-"

"Cut the bullshit, brother," Lucifer snapped, silencing him. Cas bit his lip, gauging Lucifer's mood. After several seconds, Lucifer sighed and yanked him into a bone-crushing, rib-cracking hug. When he finally released him and stepped back, Cas couldn't help smiling. He'd forgotten how unpredictable his brother could be.

"This is all warming my heart," Gabriel said. "But could we at least step inside? I'm cold."

"Yeah, yeah, it's always about you," Lucifer grumbled, but he obliged and stepped inside the house, followed closely by Cas and Anna. They dropped their suitcases against the wall in the hallway. 

"Anna and Cassie!" a young voice shouted from the living room. Samandriel came running out, his arms outstretched and his mouth covered in chocolate. Cas stepped forward, reaching down to pick him up.

"Hi, there. You're getting heavy," he murmured, feeling the smile creep back on to his face as he watched his little brother's eyes light up. 

"Cassie, I have so much to tell you!" Samandriel babbled excitedly. "We did painting last week and Ms Andrews said mine was the best and Francis invited me round and we had spaghetti and made Lego towers and Gabey gives me freebies at the joke shop and Emily Johnson kissed me on the cheek last month and I ate a Popsicle but it tasted funny..." Samandriel trailed off when somebody cleared their throat from the doorway of the kitchen. Cas looked up, and all the blood immediately rushed to his ears. His father and Hester were stood together, both of them watching him. The only difference between them was that Chuck looked nervous and hesitant while Hester looked haughty. 

Cas swallowed. Everybody was silent, their eyes glued to the exchange. Cas knew that this moment would possibly decide what his relationship with Chuck was going to be like for potentially the rest of his life, so he was going to have to choose his actions very, very carefully.

Which was why he licked his lips, swallowed again, and said; "Hello, Dad."

It was as if the whole house visibly relaxed. Everyone seemed to deflate, as though they had been prepared for some sort of war. Cas watched some of the tension in his father's eyes disappear, and gave him a small smile, which Chuck returned. Cas glanced at Hester, who still had her arms crossed tightly and her lips stretched thin. Needless to say, she nodded tersely at him, which was probably as much of a welcome as he was ever going to get.

They made their way into the living room, where they all sat down to catch up. Cas mostly avoided the conversation in favour of whispering with Samandriel, who was perched on his lap. Samandriel was in the middle of recounting an incident where a boy stole his pasta frame when Lucifer nudged Cas in the side. Cas turned to him, confused.

"Dad wanted to know how your classes were going," his brother explained. Cas shifted his eyes to Chuck, who was looking at him eagerly.

"Yeah...they're - they're good. I mean, there's a lot of studying and exams and such, but I'm learning a lot. And I've made a few friends."

Chuck nodded thoughtfully. "I'd hoped you would. You do seem more relaxed. Not as self-conscious, I mean."

Really? Cas hadn't noticed. He supposed he was doing things more easily. Such as partying till morning, getting drunk out of his mind, getting into bar fights and smoking pot. Not that he was going to tell his father that. 

"Does that mean you'll be willing to dress up as Santa's Little Helper at the joke shop for Christmas?" Gabriel inquired.

"Decidedly not," Cas replied.

"Ah, godammit," Gabriel cursed. "Worth a try. I've been trying to manipulate Luce into doing it for weeks."

"And it hasn't worked," Lucifer clarified. "I wouldn't dress in an elf costume if you payed me a million bucks."

Anna arched her eyebrows. "Honestly? Not for a million bucks?"

"Okay, maybe I would then," Lucifer relented.

Cas had missed this. The easy banter between them that only siblings could achieve. Sure, they argued from time to time, but they'd been a team for as long as he could remember. His siblings had always been home. He didn't know if he could still call this house and this life home, but he knew that was what his siblings would always be.

Conversation lasted for a long time. They talked about almost everything except the big, fat, huge elephant in the room. Cas knew they'd have to talk about it at some point, but he didn't know whether it would be in the next few days or the next few years. 

They had lunch and then dinner, while the talking never ceased. Cas was sure they must have exhausted every subject by now, but still, they chattered for hours.

Samandriel soon began falling asleep against Cas' shoulder, so he volunteered to put him to bed. He carried him upstairs and into his bedroom, where he lay him down on his bed. Samandriel mumbled and shifted, but his eyes didn't open, so Cas crept out. 

He checked the time on the clock on the wall, discovering that it was almost midnight. He tiptoed back downstairs and told the rest of them that he was going to bed. They all said goodnight, then he grabbed his suitcase and headed back upstairs, entering his old room. He dropped his suitcase down in the middle of the floor and surveyed the room. It was exactly how he remembered it. The bed was in the corner, with fresh sheets made, and the desk was beside it, still cluttered with old school books. His closet stood on the opposite wall next to his chest of drawers. His bookcase was still filled with assorted Charles Dickens novels. It was as if he'd never left.

Biting his lip, he fished his cell out of his case and perched on the end of the bed, scrolling through his contacts. When he reached Dean's number, he stopped and pressed the 'call' button and put it to his ear.

On the last ring, Dean answered. "Cas? What's the time?" he asked, his voice sounding low and sleepy.

"Just after midnight?" Cas was actually surprised that Dean was asleep at this time. He was usually awake until the early hours of the morning.

"Okay. Are you all right?" Dean questioned, concern lacing his words.

"Oh, no!" Cas hurried. "No. I just wanted to talk to you." God, that was so embarrassing. He should not have said that.  
Dean chuckled. "Everything went alright with your dad?"

"Yeah. For the moment. What about you? Have you seen your father yet?"

"Nah, I'm seeing him tomorrow. We're gonna eat some turkey - as you do - and then we're gonna take some down to dad in the afternoon."

Cas decided to ask him the question that had been nagging at him earlier. "Dean, who looks after Sam when you're at college?"

"Oh, just a family friend. Name's Bobby. He's a good guy, works at a garage," Dean explained. "Hey, by the way, why didn't you tell me your brother was Gabriel Shurley?"

"What?" Cas asked, taken aback.

"You do know that he's kind of a legend at the college, right? He was responsible for the infamous powercut-and-pipe-flood prank that caused, like, three professors to resign. On top of having a bestselling author for a father, that's pretty big family connections that you're supposed to tell a friend about!"

"Well, shouldn't you have worked it out yourself?" Cas puzzled. "I mean, we do have the same last name."

"Yeah, but it could have been a coincidence or something!"

"You know that he runs a joke shop now, right? He's not exactly famous or anything," Cas said, trying not to laugh.

"Seriously?" Dean's voice was reminiscent of somebody who had just found a hundred dollars under a tree. "That is the coolest thing ever! Please say I can meet him!"

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Cas said, smiling even though nobody could see him.

They talked for a while after that, mostly just enjoying the sounds of each other's voices. Cas had never really done this. Talked to someone just for the sake of talking to them. Because you were happy to listen to them speak. It gave him a peculiar swinging feeling in the pit of his stomach and in his chest that he wasn't sure he'd felt before. He was fairly sure that Dean could talk about dust and he would find it interesting; it wasn't more the subject matter but just the way that Dean described everything - with a kind of childlike passion. He could envision Dean's bright eyes and emphatic hand gestures as clearly as he could see the wall in front of him. Even Dean's voice seemed to glow in a way that nobody's ever had before. 

Cas fell asleep that night with that thought still rattling around his brain.

 

~_~

 

He was woken up on Thanksgiving by Gabriel barging into the room and batting him with a pillow until he was sat up. Grumbling, he rubbed his eyes and took a swipe at Gabriel, which he deftly dodged.

"Everybody's helping to make the Thanksgiving dinner," Gabriel chirped. "That includes you. So come on, lazy bones."

"All right, I'm coming. Just give me a minute," Cas mumbled, stretching. Gabriel left the room, leaving Cas to heave himself out of bed and get dressed. He slipped on some jeans and a big-fitting cream-coloured t-shirt and padded downstairs into the kitchen. Indeed, everyone was bustling about and helping to make the dinner. Even Samandriel was trying to do his part - albeit rather unsuccessfully. He was attempting to carve the turkey with one of his toy knives while Anna yelled at him to leave it alone.

As soon as Cas had stepping over the threshold, Chuck hurried up to him, handing him some garlic to chop. Cas headed over to the counter and set to work, and they continued like this for a good two hours, people flitting in and out to help. They'd often done this when Rachel was still with them, but ever since she'd left, it was really up to whomever was willing to cook the dinner, which was usually Cas. Not that he was complaining or anything, but he'd just enjoyed it more when they'd done it as a family.

Unfortunately, at one point, he ended up alone in the kitchen with Hester. They worked in an uncomfortable silence, apart from the occasional disapproving sniff from Hester. After about ten minutes, she finally spoke up.

"Your father has missed you an awful lot," she said randomly.

"Right..." Cas answered slowly, not really sure how to respond.

"It was cruel to do that to him." Ah, that was what she was getting at. "Severing all connections like that. It was rude and it worried him greatly. You know how bad his anxiety gets. 'Honour thy father and mother'. You should know that."

"Please don't quote the bible at me," Cas said, then bit down on his tongue, berating himself. Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut?

Hester visibly and audibly bristled. "You need to learn some manners, boy."

"Oh, that'd be the day," he sighed, kneeling down and checking the oven. 

"You think this is a joke?"

"Oh, no, I'm deadly serious." He should probably place some tape over his mouth.

Hester grabbed his shoulder and yanked him up so that she could look into his eyes. "This is not a game. I drove you out of this house once. I can do it again. I know what you've been doing in that college. Spreading your homosexual filth and committing evil, unnatural acts with other men."

Cas pulled away from her, rubbing his shoulder. "If only I should be so lucky. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and check if you haven't caused bruising."

He pushed past her and ran up the stairs to his bedroom, where he flopped down on his bed. Of course, he'd foreseen this, so why did it make him feel like shit? Hester shouldn't be able to make him feel like an abomination just for happening to be attracted to a certain gender. It was highly illogical. Didn't mean it hurt any less, though.

At that moment, his phone started ringing on the nightstand. Frowning, Cas reached over and picked it up, his frown growing deeper when he saw Dean's name on the caller ID. He pressed 'answer' and held it to his ear.

"Dean? What's wrong?" he asked.

"Sorry, man," Dean's voice came from down the line. "I just wanted to talk. We've been to visit Dad and all he and Sam did was argue. Eventually I just gave up and walked out. I'm in my car right now, waiting for Sam to come out."

"I'm sorry about that, Dean," Cas replied, worried about his friend. "Do...do Sam and your father argue often?"

"Oh, only about ten times a day." Dean sounded exhausted. It was surprising, seem as his voice had been full of life last night. "Sorry for complaining."

"No, it's okay. I get it."

"Thanks, Cas."

"No problem. I've just had to escape, myself, actually. My dad's girlfriend was breathing down my neck, quoting the bible at me."

"Not the best start to Thanksgiving, eh?" Dean said, sounding a little lighter.

"No. Oh, well. Only three days left."

"Yeah. Listen, man, I've got to go. Sam's coming and he looks pissed. I'll talk to you later, all right?"

"Okay. Bye Dean."

"Hang in there."

"You too."

He heard the line disconnect and placed the phone back on the nightstand. 

Later on, they all gathered to eat. Anna doled out the food while they listened to Chuck and Lucifer bickering. Chuck was currently trying to convince Lucifer to get a job.

"I mean, you're nearly twenty-four years old, you still live with your dad, you dropped out of high school when you were sixteen, you didn't go to college and you spend all your time in cemeteries with those friends of yours!" Chuck pressed.  
"Exactly. So no employers would take me. Why bother, then?" Lucifer retorted.

"That's not the point I was trying to make!" Chuck said desperately. "I meant, you'll end up forty-five years old, on your third divorce and never having done anything with your life at all!"

"Yes! And the thing is, that's fine by me because I don't give two shits."

"Language!" Hester scolded. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes and ignored her. "Look, Dad, how about you stop worrying about my career and start thinking about your own? You haven't started writing another of your crappy books yet. Your fans are waiting."

"Don't be so rude!" Hester reprimanded.

Again, Lucifer ignored her. "Come on, Dad. You got writer's block or some shit?"

"Can we talk about something more pleasant, please?" Anna cut in. "I just want to have some family time. Is that so much to ask?"

"Oh, we revolve around you, do we?" Lucifer snapped at her.

"Luce, c'mon, be reasonable," Gabriel said.

"Please stop arguing," Chuck pleaded.

"We will, as soon as Luce stops being an asshole," Anna said, glaring.

"I'm the asshole now?" Lucifer asked, astonished. "What happened to hating Dad for what he did to Cassie?" He looked around at the awkward, silent faces. "Well?" He turned to Cas. "Cassie? What have you got to say about it?"

"I...um..." Cas shrank back from his brother's stare.

"Leave him alone, Luce," Gabriel scolded. "He just doesn't want a repeat of last time. And I don't blame him. Can't we just have a nice Thanksgiving dinner?"

"You are all a bunch of fucking idiots!" Lucifer exploded. "Don't you get it? We can't have 'nice family time' because we're not a family! When Mom left, it ruined us, but we learned to cope. We stayed together. But then she came along-" he pointed at Hester, "-and messed everything up. If she hadn't screwed with Dad's head, then he would have been fine with Castiel being gay and Castiel would have gone off to college without hating himself. As it is, thanks to her, Cassie has a whole truckload of self-loathing to deal with, Dad's been brainwashed and the rest of us have to deal with the aftermath. It's not fair! Why can't she just fuck off and leave us in peace?" Lucifer ended his tirade and sat back, breathing heavily and glowering at them.

Silence stretched across the table. Nobody knew what to say, so the only audible sound was the occasional scraping of cutlery against plates as people tried to eat. Cas didn't touch the rest of his food, and neither did Lucifer.

"I want orange juice," demanded Samandriel.

 

~_~

 

The next two days mostly consisted of finishing off leftovers and walking around town with one or more of his siblings. On several occasions, Lucifer took Cas to the dump to search for any waste that he deemed appropriate for reuse. They found half an armchair, a broken fridge, a mouldy stool and a box of dinner plates. Another time, Gabriel took him down to the joke shop and left him in charge of the counter, where he gave three people the wrong receipts, spilled money everywhere and somehow accidentally squirted a kid with a water gun. Samandriel begged him to take him down to buy some more toy soldiers, but the store was all out of stock, so Samandriel threw a fit in the middle of the store.

He talked to Dean throughout the days as well. They talked when either of them needed to get away from it all, which, they found out, was frequently. It was a good arrangement. Dean's soft voice was leaps and bounds away from Hester's constant grating one.

Nobody mentioned Lucifer's angry speech at Thanksgiving dinner, although Hester blatantly ignored them all, despite Chuck's desperate attempts to get her to talk to him. It was almost hard to watch.

Then it was time for Cas and Anna to leave for college. Samandriel threw another fit outside, screaming and clutching on Cas' leg. It took a combination of Gabriel and Lucifer to drag him off.

Cas said his goodbyes to the three of them, then turned to Hester and Chuck. He was unsure what to say. Should he hug them? Probably not. Handshake? Pat on the back?

"Goodbye, Castiel," Chuck said, making the decision for him and reaching out for a tentative hug. "Come for Christmas?"

"I'll try, Dad. Goodbye." They pulled away, and Cas turned to Hester. She settled with a nod, which he returned, then turned to pick up his suitcase. He looked at them all one last time, then followed Anna into the cab. As they drove away, he watched them all waving until they were out of sight.

He turned to find Anna watching him thoughtfully. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Nothing," she said. "Just glad that I convinced you to come. Despite the hiccups, I think it was rather successful in some respects."

"And what, pray tell, would those respects be?" he inquired.

"Getting you to actually talk to Dad. I'd say that's a plus."

"Whatever," he murmured, causing her to laugh.

The ride back to the college felt quicker than the first ride. It probably had something to do with the fact that he had been dreading the first ride, but wasn't dreading this. In almost no time, they were back at the college and getting out of the cab. They heaved their suitcases out of the boot and paid the cab owner, watching him drive off.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to put this back in my dorm," said Anna.

"Good idea," Cas replied. They entered the dorm building and then parted ways, because Anna was going up a different flight of stairs. Cas made his way up his stairs and came to his dorm, which he unlocked and entered. He dropped his suitcase down beside his bed, exhaling slowly and sitting down on the edge of his bed. He really couldn't be bothered to unpack now, so he decided to go for a walk.

It was when he was walking along beside a group of benches that he spotted a figure sat on the grass. Hs heart did a funny leap and he grinned before taking another step. The figure spotted him and stood up, waving. Cas wormed his way between the benches and headed towards the figure, trying to avoid breaking into a run. It was only when he got closer and the figure, wearing his usual leather jacket and strange amulet, tilted his head, when he realised something. Something that he should have realised a long time ago.

Dean Winchester was the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on.


End file.
